


Postcards From Waterfall

by skerb



Series: Postcards From Waterfall [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Depression, Eventual Relationships, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Pre-Undertale Pacifist Route, References to Undertale Genocide Route, Secret Crush, Slow Burn, sansby - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 58,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28519947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skerb/pseuds/skerb
Summary: Sans is conflicted by night terrors and vague memories from previous timelines gone wrong. While they're starting to become more vivid, soon he starts to notice deviations from what he's grown accustomed to and Papyrus does something unusual that changes everything.With the River Person out of commission, Sans accompanies Grillby on a replenishment run through to New Home, all while wrestling with a feeling he just can't break about his long-time friend. As he gets to know Grillby in a newer light along with some changes that have come up due to past medical abuse, it's becoming more and more apparent that something or someone is interfering...(CH 1-12 - CONFESSIONS)
Relationships: Grillby/Sans (Undertale)
Series: Postcards From Waterfall [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089182
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

The stool swayed dangerously as Sans leaned against the bar, swivelling it and daring it to tip over. He was hunched over the counter, lidless sockets blanked as he tilted his bottle. It made a hollow noise, a faint, depressing song of a ketchup bottle long since emptied. He gave another half-hearted sigh.

It had been the fourth such sigh that evening, and the bartender was not giving in. That had been perhaps Sans’ eighth bottle, and his reserves were already becoming lean. Don’t think that the fire monster had let the increase in condiment intake get past him; Grillby caught on to a lot more than his empirical demeanour let on.

He’d allowed Sans to precariously seat himself at the bar hours ago. While other monsters were seemingly oblivious to the small skeleton’s mood, Grillby had known Sans far too long to know the silence was more than his usual quiet self. His visage was masked by flame, an ethereal crackle sparked in quiet reverence as the skeleton stayed silent in turn. When Sans finally let all four legs of the stool hit the floor, his shoulders were hunched, the weight of the entire mountain on them.

And yet, the skeleton would not speak.

This was new. Usually after a few hours and drinks there would be words. But now? Nothing.

Concerned, the bartender tapped the counter with one digit. Lazily, those lightless sockets would turn to him, a weary tug at the ever-present grin on Sans’ face. When the skeleton shrugged, he seemed almost listless. It was heart-wrenching to see an old friend so down in spirits, but unless Sans made the initiative, Grillby thought it better not to pry, but to confirm he was there for him until the skeleton relented.

It was not as though he hadn’t tried before; it was just that Sans was a flight risk when confronted. Grillby knew that his friend had inner demons more dangerous than any of the beings lurking above the mountain. Pure conjecture, considering it had been centuries since any monster had seen it last. But Sans had a way with bending a conversation away from himself; however clumsy he appeared to be on the outside, his mind showed the fire monster how clever and adept he really was, over time.

While his posture was not receptive, Sans stayed. The bartender’s company -- hell,  _ everyone’s  _ company gave his life meaning in what felt like crushing darkness. And, if truth be told, he didn’t want to conjure up the memory of some of his more horrid night terrors of late. He was already avoiding his brother, shirking his duties more than usual… He was  _ tired,  _ and even his puns didn’t have the same appeal anymore. Sure, they were still bad; they just didn’t ring with his own personal brand of humour anymore. He’d slipped into the habit of leaving others out of the loop, and back into the cycle of misery he’d go.

Left behind in more ways than one, the skeleton’s thoughts whirled in his skull for the fortieth time that evening. No one left. Following a small creature through the entire Underground. Everything became ‘empty’ as he helplessly followed, scared for what was happening and what was to come.

And then, there would be… skips?

Sans would wrestle with it in his mind. He wasn’t sure about them at first, but he knew that pieces of his memory were missing. There would be an instance or two where he would  _ attempt  _ to remember something in order, but it would all be flashes, nonlinear pieces belonging to a recollection of a dream that he’d once told someone, long ago.

If Sans was being honest with himself, that was the reason he didn’t open up to anyone. His worries, his nightmares, his hopes and dreams. Because somehow, in what amounted to another life, he  _ already had.  _ And Sans was not someone who easily revealed his worries, over and over…

Over and over…

_ Over and over and over… _

He snapped out of his pitch-dark reverie when the stool next to him scuffed against the floorboards, the noise loud and jarring enough to make Sans jump. The ketchup bottle lost its balance as his finger slipped and it rolled away, stopping against a nearby salt shaker.

“oh. heya, grillbz,” he muttered, his tone oddly neutral as he settled his skull into his crossed arms on the countertop. The waft of heat from the bartender shone on his pale bones, the patient virtue of his friend’s composure oddly comforting. Sans had joked, once upon a time, that Grillby was at least forty times more relaxing than a hearth. Now, the skeleton just watched the flames lick languidly around his old friend’s hands, obscuring their true shape.

“welp. i should get goin’.”

The skeleton huffed one more sigh, leaning further down into his arms so his face was out of view. He really didn’t want to leave. It was more and more difficult to even leave the house each day; that is, if he ever went home in the first place. This was probably the third day Grillby had graciously allowed him to stay, and the morose skeleton was starting to feel like he was becoming a bit of a burden.

Another tap to the countertop and Sans lifted his skull again, just peering out from the corner of his socket to Grillby’s hand. Yeah, he knew he had to talk sooner or later. Half of him wanted to, and the other half vehemently objected. What would be the point if this happened to be another offshoot, and one day everyone conveniently decided to forget about what had happened? He’d bare his soul for whatever temporary relief it offered, only for the action to be rendered pointless.

Something akin to a cold tendril of guilt coiled at the pit of his spine despite Grillby’s presence. His mind wandered once more to the ‘alternate’ route, pieces flickering in his memory like a deep chasm. Of Grillby’s entirely empty -- Snowdin in a dark light, no life, no wind, only a whisper of dust and deep, unsatiated hunger.

And that knife.

Sans winced inwardly, instinctively going for an old wound he felt he always had, yet wasn’t there at all. No wound, no dust and no scar. There was just a phantom pain that wrecked his soul from time to time, causing him to crumple into weakness, especially on dark evenings like these.

The monster beside him pulsed, his flames crackling like kindling and with the faint hum of an ever-lasting blaze. Cautiously, Grillby leaned against the bar too, closing the distance between them. He was careful not to spook Sans; the skeleton had a habit of leaving and disappearing, after all.

_ “Talk to me, old friend,”  _ was the ethereal, low gravel.

Sans moved his arm up slightly, cradling the back of his skull in something akin to self-comfort. The look on his face was almost pained but familiar. Grillby had been seeing it a lot lately. Defeated, the skeleton raised his eye lights to the bartender’s visage, defaulting to his usual excuse in previous lives that would always more or less explain things, “just… bad nights. not so great dreams lately.”

Grillby knew that wasn’t all to it and patiently watched from behind glowing spectacles, waiting for more while keeping his silence.

“they just seem so vivid,” Sans muttered into his sleeve as he turned his face away. It was almost rehearsed, as though he’d said it so many times before.

Grillby knew about his issues -- sleeping damn near anywhere, tormented by night terrors. It was something that he knew Sans had grown to dislike about himself; it wasn’t the kind of joke he wanted to be, Sans said once or twice.

Absently, Sans would scratch the back of his skull, as though unsure how to proceed, but at the same time knowing full well what to say. Being forced to play along with fate’s plan for him always dulled his willingness to participate.

That, and he already knew what advice Grillby would offer. In different ways, but it was always the same. Take care of himself. Try something, every day, even if he didn’t feel like it. Take time for himself. Spend time with the people he loved. Grillby’s advice, while seemingly simple, struck with deeper meaning, every time. Sans knew Grillby’s therapeutic touch on a more personal level than anyone else. It was an endearing little quirk that causality kept in its reserves, as if just to placate him. Perhaps that is why the fire monster’s company was so soothing to his soul…

_ “…spoke to Papyrus about it?” _

Sans’ eye lights flicked back into focus from his reverie, catching the tail end of the fire monster’s soft spoken, carefully chosen words. He made a gesture of frustration; running bony fingers down his face to briefly stop over his eyes, pinching the surface between them. Every so often, he just wanted to talk with his brother, to let him know  _ everything  _ that kept him uneasy. However, Papyrus’ boisterous attitude and clamorous worry had always been a hurdle Sans just never had the energy for.

“i’ve tried. he worries. and i don’t wanna make him worry…” the skeleton replied in hushed undertones. It was all very exhausting, actually. Sometimes, he wondered if his brother had gotten  _ his _ share of energy by some cosmic mistake.

A seemingly impermeable silence dropped over him, threatening to hitch his voice as he attempted to sort through the words. Every time was a damned train wreck. Sans realised his gaze had shifted back to the fire monster’s hands, clasped over themselves in a calm and respectful manner. It was just another one of Grillby’s refined qualities that Sans had taken a liking to.

Sans realised that he’d been lost in thought again and groaned inwardly. Grillby had just asked something more and he was debating even replying, since he hadn’t heard the question. Like every time, he supposed he could’ve just guessed or shrugged indifferently, but the bartender’s expectant gaze shone through him, putting him on the spot.

“…sorry. didn’t get that.”

Grillby tentatively reached over and settled a gentle hand on Sans’ shoulder when he didn’t move. The gesture was kind and comfortable, and somehow made Sans feel worse. Guilt bubbled inside of him.

_ “Go home tonight and rest, friend,” _ came the quiet crackle of fire once more.

“i know, i know,” the skeleton sighed; the fifth one. He made no effort to move, his eye lights dimming until the hollows were bare. Rest meant sleep and sleep meant more trouble than it was inherently worth. Sans supposed he could always nap later in Waterfall, after he attempted to man one of his posts. If he actually got a full night’s rest, maybe he’d have more than one hope left to cling to.

It was all wishful thinking, though.

Eventually he exited the bar, if for nothing else than to stop worrying the fire monster. He played it off as though he’d had too much to drink, his weary grin tightening as he stumbled out the door -- a show for the other patrons. They all called after Sans, telling him to be careful on his way home and to have a good night. It was nice for them to treat him with such kindness. But it was also another one of those things that made the skeleton feel so hopelessly guilty.

Stubbornly, Sans dragged his slippered feet in the snow, preparing himself for that one spot of ice that always got him just before the library. He skidded to one side, lost balance, and unceremoniously landed on his back. He huffed indignantly, staring up at the vaulted cavernous ceiling looming above as though it was  _ its  _ fault.

Why this time? Why in every  _ single goddamn- _

As the universe seemed to unload unrelenting heaps of misfortune and reasons to despise himself, Sans simply lay there, reluctant to get up. It was partially the reason he didn’t want to fall in the first place. Moving was so much effort. Talking, keeping up the facade… after a while, hurting just felt like an annoying burden.

With a grunt of effort, Sans sat up, rubbing at the back of his spine in mild irritation and dusting off the slush from his clothes. He was absolutely drenched and even if he didn’t feel the cold, ice water between the joints was enough to impede movement and get painful if it happened to freeze. It was what ultimately motivated him to get up, his pace a little quicker than usual, if only to get back home and maybe get changed.

When he arrived at the steps to his house, Sans stopped. An eerie feeling crept into his soul. Something was different, so severely different that he was surprised he didn’t notice it when he had passed it earlier. His magic coiled around his bones, making him shiver as he turned to face the street towards the library. Apart from his own, there were no footsteps, but… His eye lights settled on his stuffed mailbox. Or at least, it would’ve been stuffed, had the months’ worth of mail been there.

The unsettling feeling returned as he approached, his skull craned in that direction, his left eye socket starting to wisp and sear cyan with a touch of gold. There were no footprints in the snow at all, yet… he was  _ sure _ his mail was there before he left, even if it had been days ago. It was always there, like his pet rock. It was a universal constant!

His soul was thrumming hard in his chest, fear coiling around in his bones. With every cautious step he took towards the porch, something within him jerked and cried out that something was  _ wrong.  _ So, not as dead on the inside as he thought, but scared enough to not want to find out, he bitterly thought.

He took in a gulp of air, his erratic and paranoid magic throwing a hue of bright colours and mayhem onto the front door. He was halfway to reaching for the doorknob when the wood nearly flew off the hinges, startling the skeleton so much he lost his footing.

“SANS! YOU HAD ME WORRIED SICK!” came the familiar tone, cadence, and impenetrable volume level. Sans clung up the rail with something of a grimace, gingerly stooping to pick up the slipper that had fallen off in his rush to regain his balance. It hurt so badly that Sans felt as though his ankle bone had twisted in the joint when he slipped.

Papyrus leaned over him, helping him to regain footing on their as-per-usual slippery steps. He’d always said Sans’ footwear needed more traction, would have loved to tell Sans off about it, but something in his brother’s stature just felt like it would be too much. His outings of late had been plenty and Sans only seemed to come home after several days. When he  _ was  _ home, it was to wash up, have some dinner, and somehow be very bad at sleeping.

“sorry, bro,” Sans replied, wagging his injured foot as he entered the house with a series of hops. He bent down with a grimace, leaning against the door jamb for balance as he sorted things out, audible clicks of bones settling into place. Then he tossed his slipper onto the floor, returning it to his foot with a sloppy  _ squish. _

“WHERE WERE YOU?”

“grillby’s.” Sans shrugged as he unzipped his hoodie jacket, fighting with the toggle at the end where it was always impossible to unhook. Dejectedly, he just sighed and dropped it on the floor in a sopping pile, leaving it there. Without missing a beat, his brother picked it up and hung it on the coat rack where it could drip dry.

“FOR THREE DAYS?” The tone was lower and highly suspicious as he rounded on Sans, ready to give him a proper scolding.

Then again, his brother seemed smaller, his eye lights gone and hollowed. His own narrowed slightly, uneasy about the crackle of magic he’d sensed just outside the door. It had been worrying -- with his brother’s meandering around at all hours of the night, leaving without telling him, and just… not being around? Well! The Great Papyrus would certainly have to get Sans to tell him about all his brotherly troubles!

The grin at Sans’ mouth tightened artificially as he attempted a softer, lazier demeanour. His little brother already looked like he was going to interrogate him, and he didn’t want to invoke any questions about his panic attack on their doorstep. Thinking on it, Sans sauntered into the living room, his one foot clicking due to his fall. It would sort itself out. Always did.

He stopped in front of the blaring television, eyeing the sizeable pile of letters, postcards and bills on the floor. It looked like Papyrus had been sorting them into smaller piles with more yellow sticky notes decorated in spidery cursive. In big capital letters, the notes marked each pile: DUE, FOR SANS, FLYERS, ???. Sans had to let out a soft laugh at that. Trust his brother to be scrutinizing, even with this.

But this wasn’t right. He hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his jaw with his bony digits as Papyrus unsuccessfully tried to gain his attention by stepping in full view of him. Sans gave him a feeble grin when he snapped out of his thoughts, hands going into his shorts’ pockets in lieu of his jacket. Papyrus was puffing his chest out and crossing his arms impatiently. 

“oh, uh… you just… never have bothered with my mail before, paps,” he offered a little meekly, still looking at the closest pile.

Papyrus made a grandiose speech, whirling in place and gesturing to the huge pile of papers on the floor; about how if he ever  _ did  _ give in and did all the things Sans  _ should  _ be doing, he’d never have any time for himself  _ or _ for training to get into the Royal Guard.

The smaller skeleton nodded absently, still scratching. “no, i mean, you’ve…  _ never  _ done it.” Not ever, not in any memory he had…

Something in his expression must’ve betrayed him, since Papyrus was about a foot away from him again, eyeing him with suspicion. His brother always closed in on his personal space whenever he knew something was up, and today was no different. “THEY’RE PUTTING YOUR MAIL IN  _ MY  _ BOX NOW! IT WAS TIME!” It was the most cordial way for his brother to tell him.

With everything being the same to the point of predictability, for one or two things out of place in the loop just made Sans feel uncomfortable, as though something  _ had _ to have gone wrong. Hell, maybe this would be the offshoot where he’d pick up his sock next to the TV? Taking a quick glance to it, he scoffed. It wasn’t likely; in fact, there was a brand new yellow note attached to the one he’d left weeks ago. He’d have to see to his reply later.

The uneasiness in his soul made Sans quiet, and instead of walking away to his room like he’d normally do with a shrug, he side-stepped Papyrus and took a seat on the floor next to the heap of papers, his movements punctuated by the sound of popping bones. More of his brother’s worries concerning sore bones and exercising regularly barely even reached Sans as he picked up one of the postcards, flipping to the back of it to study the picture. Its glossy texture had been weathered from its life in his mailbox, the subjects a couple of impressively drawn echo flowers from Waterfall. It was addressed from Papyrus, on one of his first trips to Undyne’s cooking and training exercises.

Something like nostalgia passing through him, Sans’ smile eased into something calmer, something forgotten. Why had he never looked through these? If he had to be honest with himself again, it just never passed his mind. It always seemed like something that could probably be done later. Yet here he was. It was kind of nice.

Papyrus had seated himself across from Sans, making a show of sorting more bills and scoffing at how overdue they were. But on the inside, he knew something was eating away at his brother. The fact that this was their first actual conversation in what was probably a week both excited and worried him.

Sans had always been the reclusive type, and he had wracked his memory if  _ he _ had done anything to upset Sans in the past while. Nothing out of the ordinary; his nagging about his laziness (the usual), silly arguments about the best puzzles, his sock, his frequent trips to greasy food establishments… entirely acceptable, brotherly correspondence!

Which brought him to another thought; of his brother’s constant sleepiness. He looked worse for it. Even now, he saw Sans’ frame teetering, his eye lights faded in fatigue and as small as pinpoints. Papyrus watched Sans wrestle with the urge to sleep, his skull nodding slightly before he roused himself and reached for another postcard, blatantly ignoring the ever-increasing pile of overdue bills.

It was a good thing the CORE’s power reached Snowdin, otherwise he could only imagine how astronomical the cost would be to light the town! Still though, the capital would wait only so long before sending another, politely worded letter requesting their owed forty gold payment for setting them up on power from Hotland… before they resent it. As they had, fourteen times already.

Papyrus sighed in exasperation, watching as Sans jerked his skull up once more at the noise. He was fighting sleep, which meant he hadn’t been resting for all of the time he had left. The living room was warm and quiet, save for a commercial that blared something MTT-Brand related. The taller skeleton promptly stood and turned off the TV in one fell motion. Then he unceremoniously reached under his brother’s shoulders and hoisted him up as though he were a child.

Sans buckled out of his dazy, sleepy spell and jerked against Papyrus’ arms, in time to fall directly on the couch. One of the springs in it dug against his femur and his spine spasmed where he’d landed on it earlier. Grumpily, Sans rubbed the spot, looking up to his younger brother with a hurt expression.

“NOW! ARE YOU GOING TO TELL YOUR ADORING AND PERHAPS A LITTLE DISTRESSED BROTHER YOUR TROUBLES? OR ARE YOU GOING TO NAP?”

If he had to pick, Sans wouldn’t. They were both choices he didn’t want to commit to. He shuffled back against the couch, at inner turmoil with Papyrus’ worry gnawing at his soul. It was like at the bar, but instead of warm, patient silence, his brother was quickly chipping away at his resolve to ignore his feelings.

“WAS IT… ME??? DID I DO SOMETHING, SANS?”

Sans dropped the postcard he’d been looking at, eye lights flicking up to his brother’s face. He noted the unsure posture, the way his gaze shifted about but didn’t look at him directly. Papyrus’ hands tugged on his gloves, as though the fit wasn’t quite right. He was uneasy, but he had no reason to be. The smaller skeleton felt even smaller, so laden with guilt that he didn’t say anything for awhile. Instead, he wanted to hide in his room. He lowered his eye lights to Papyrus’ red boots, searching for something he could say to make him not worry so much.

“I… SEE.” And there it was; decided for him. He couldn’t  _ not _ say anything to that voice. Sans’ eye lights snapped up back to his brother’s face, horrified that Papyrus didn’t wait.

“paps… i’m just tired, i’m sorry,” he offered, giving a menial shrug. “it’s nothin’ you did, honest.” He felt trapped, his mind racing, trying to find that one sentence that wouldn’t plunge his brother into self doubt on his account. Nervously, he gripped the edge of the couch’s cushion, his fingertips digging into the worn corduroy for comfort.

Papyrus continued to stand in front of him as Sans struggled with his inner turmoil, before giving in. So, he was going to bare his soul once more. Sans gave an experimental breath, the sound almost hollow as he tried not to make it sound as pathetic as he felt inside.

“ok. just… bear with me, ‘cause it’s a doozy of a dream.” Sans rubbed his hands over his face, the action only somewhat soothing. “mrs snowdrake is gone,” he started, his tone neutral. This was no different than any other offshoot, as she had Fallen Down a while ago, her body sent to Hotland Labs. It was no secret, since her son and husband were waiting hopefully for her promised return. “then… the canine squad… doggo, lesser, greater, dogamy and dogaressa… all of them.”

His voice was even but slow, as though every name and word stung. Magic recoiled from the memories within his soul and he tensed just as Papyrus’ stance eased, then moved to drape his brother with the old blanket from over the back of the couch. Appreciatively, Sans held the worn fabric close to him, thumbing the folds anxiously.

“undyne, s-she’s next… shyren, mettaton, guards, citizens, monsters -- just,  _ everyone,  _ they all just-”

He gestured vaguely.  _ The Underground goes empty.  _ Sans cut himself off, realising he left out the most important loss. His fingers gripped the blanket against his arm, breath hitching as what he had all pent up became too much. Sans’ sockets hollowed out again and he lowered his head, trying to gain his bearings. His whole frame was shaking, of guilt, anger and unfathomable helplessness.

“WHAT ABOUT ME?”

Oh  _ god.  _ Sans did  _ not _ want to hear that. He tensed further, wanting to crumble into a ball or pile of dust. Sans nodded, the action painful as his arms flew up to his skull, interlocking behind his neck and pulling down so Papyrus could not jerk his head up like so many times before. He couldn’t let him see the emptiness of his sockets. Sans knew it would only hurt him.

“uh, you too, paps. you’re gone too.” His voice felt and sounded lifeless as it echoed out from his body, as though being repeated from a wistful echo flower planted behind his sternum.

He shuddered at the silence, hating himself that he couldn’t keep it all inside. He regretted not going directly to Waterfall, or even  _ Hotland, _ to one of his posts. But the kind suggestion from his old friend at the bar had warmed his soul like a haunting melody, wanting to soothe and stop its fearful grip inside him.

The couch dipped beside him and he let out something of a startled gasp when his brother’s arm encircled him. While tense, the hug was comforting in its own way; skeleton hugs were always closer than any other monster’s, after all. For a moment, Papyrus didn’t say anything and just gently patted Sans’ shoulder, glad to get at least  _ something _ out of him.

“GONE, YOU SAY?” His brother’s register had lowered and tone softened. The taller skeleton gave him another pat on the shoulder as Sans nodded morosely between his forearms. “WOWIE… THAT IS A LOT! WHYEVER DID YOU NOT SAY ANYTHING TO ME, SANS! YOU MUST BE SO CONFUSED!”

Sans’ soul lurched sickeningly behind his rib cage at those last words. He’d heard them before. A twisted, cynical, horrifyingly deep feeling shuddered his frame, the soft clatter of his bones jostling against Papyrus’ gloved hand. He pushed the thought away, echoing another useless, but calming breath.

“WE’RE NOT GONE, SANS! WE’RE ALL HERE! WELL, EXCEPT MRS SNOWDRAKE, YOU KNOW SHE’S IN HOTLAND… BUT! STILL!! THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY MORE SLACKING OFF!”

Horror eventually melded into confusion as his older brother loosened his grip at the back of his skull. He turned to face Papyrus, the barest of pinpricks lighting Sans’ sockets and a twinge of a disdain crooking his grin.

“what…?”

“YOU HAVE BEEN NEGLECTING YOUR SLEEP… FOR ONCE,” Papyrus started again at full volume and nodded his skull as though in full agreement with himself. One of his hands cupped the square of his jaw as though pensive. “YES… I THINK! THAT! A SLEEPOVER IS IN ORDER!!!”

Sans’ shoulders hunched in defeat as he gave Papyrus something of a skeptical look. “bro… it’s just nightmares. they’ll pass.” He said it in a convincing way, though Sans knew full well that it was damn near any time he closed his eyes. He didn’t see how waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of Papyrus’ room would help him any, really.

But Papyrus was already planning out the rest of their evening; listing off how he’d prepare his specialty signature dish, how Sans would take a bath (for once), and how he’d make sure everything was to his dear brother’s liking before heading to bed. After, of course, a bedtime story.

The smaller skeleton found no use in arguing with him. It did seem nice, and Sans knew it was his brother’s way of trying to calm him down. Guilt continued to swim in a dark pool of heavy emotion at the pit of his soul. It echoed an utter weakness that refused to dissipate, tugging him blindly into the past.

He would play along, though. If anything, Papyrus was the kindest monster he knew and he didn’t deserve to be brushed aside as often as he was. Sans gave in to Papyrus’ brotherly affections, complimenting him on dinner with a lazy grin and thumbs up. He only protested when Papyrus forced him into the bathroom to strip his remaining clothes, still wet and cold from his earlier fall in the street. When the bath was run, Sans realised that his brother had successfully japed him and took his dirty clothes. Papyrus had replaced them with Sans’ own neglected pyjama set, neatly folded and on top of the sink’s counter.

He muttered a few thankful words as he slipped into the tub, allowing the hot water to pool into his nasal cavity and eye sockets, suspended in more comfort than he felt he really deserved. The water sloshed around the cavity of his skull, lulling him into a doze. It was part of the reason he visited Waterfall so much. While a marsh, it was beautiful scenery, with lights much like his own magic’s hue took on. It was peaceful, and when it wasn’t, it didn’t change much at all. He could just get lost in the serene waters for hours… 

Sans dozed for a moment as he tuned out the world around him. He reclined, languidly stretching out with the hue of his magic whispering around the subtle disturbances in the water. So much like Waterfall. It was almost peaceful, he noted soundly.

Sans raised himself up a little more and stared down at his wavering reflection as it rippled. As it settled, a half-cocked grin with hollowed eyes mockingly stared back at him. There were dark circles more pronounced than usually, bare signs of stress for his kind and his grin dropped a little more, not liking how he was looking just then.

He rotated his clicking foot in the joint. Every movement a twinge of pain plucked at his soul like a taut string. He gave a soft sigh as he tilted his skull to one side to drain the water from it and leaned forward to remove his leg at the knee cap to inspect the injury. There was a miniscule fracture line at the head of the talus and he rubbed angrily at the spot. He’d be quicker if he had the energy, but if anything did happen this sure wasn’t going to help…

Papyrus’ voice called him from down the hall and Sans moved to reattach his leg, the joint connecting underwater with a faint  _ clack _ and a painful pinch. He moved his foot again, experimentally, before calling his brother’s name back in turn. He chuckled softly at Papyrus’ pause, then flinched when the door burst open in his orange and bone printed pyjamas, the monster’s primary form of entrance. It was a good thing skeletons had no reason to be shy when it came down to their bodies. Or perhaps it was just due to the face that they were family.

“I WAS MERELY WONDERING, DEAR BROTHER, IF YOU HAD A STORY IN MIND FOR THIS EVENING?” Papyrus charmingly suggested, holding up a handful of worn and well-loved books in both hands.

Sans idly rubbed his elbow, forcing a grin as he itched between his joints, finding a rock of all things. He studied it for a moment before giving an answer, flicking the pebble outside of the tub where it skittered across the checkerboard tiles towards Papyrus.

“you pick one, pap. you know i like ‘em all.”

His brother gave him a rather flat expression at his noncommittal answer -- well, as much as he could. Sans was well-versed in the way Papyrus expressed his irritation, being the subject of his nerves so often. With another one of Papyrus’ exasperated sighs, Sans chuckled to himself, scratching absentmindedly at his jawbone as he gave a halfhearted shrug.

“fluffy bunny. yeah, why not.”

His brother stood there for a moment in silence before Sans made the motion to get out of the tub. His baths never did last that long, enough to soak some dirt off, much to Papyrus’ disgust.

He handed Sans a towel and turned to leave the bathroom, cradling his books in his arms and allowing his expression to drop into one of worry. Sans was… not ok. He sure played along with him, acted like things were fine, but the presence of his brother’s magic,  _ all the time, _ while he was home… it didn’t feel right. A person’s home was where one could relax and didn’t have to be on guard. If Sans was  _ really _ fine, he wouldn’t be on the defensive, even while in the bath -- even around him, his own brother!

But the nightmares of everyone leaving had no doubt left Sans rather jumpy. Papyrus couldn’t understand why, not entirely. Was it not to be a good thing if everyone left the Underground?? Not unless… Sans was afraid of being left behind! Papyrus was astonished he didn’t think of it before. What a careless blunder on his part! He would have to admonish his dear brother for ever thinking he’d leave his own family behind, to return to the surface without dragging or carrying him there, post-haste!

It was then that Sans left the bathroom, fully clothed in his blue pinstripe pyjamas, buttons done up but askew. The legs and arms were admittedly still too long, even after Papyrus’ valiant effort to hem them. He doubted Sans took much time to dry himself off properly, his skull still glistening with water and dripping down his neck. With a sigh, Papyrus shuffled his books into the crook of his arm and went back into the bathroom to grab Sans’ towel off the floor and bring it back out.

“HERE-” He all but shoved the collection into Sans’ arms as he stared at him, dumbfounded, as he proceeded to rub the towel onto his brother’s thick skull. “THERE, MUCH BETTER, DON’T YOU SEE?” He looked at his work with scrutiny as Sans stared at him in silence, not entirely sure how to take his brother’s admittedly, more thorough-than-usual pampering.

“sure is, bro,” was all he could respond before attempting a forced grin.

Without further ado, and only pausing long enough to hang the damp towel on the back of the door where it belonged, Papyrus led him to his room. He gestured placidly towards the interior as Sans gave a light chuckle, heel clicking as he approached the bed. He took his usual seat beside the bed on the floor, allowing the collection of books to tumble out of his arms and onto the neatly made comforter. Papyrus closed the door and all but rushed up to the bed, giving pause for a moment before hitching his older brother up under his arms again and depositing him on the mattress, where he sat next.

Sans gave him a more genuine grin, although it looked more like a grimace as a snicker escaped him.

“jeez, paps,” he mumbled, scooting back a touch as Papyrus collected the other books. He then pulled back the covers and looked at him expectantly, the childlike whimsy of his demeanour oddly infectious.

Well, it  _ had  _ been quite awhile since he’d been home, and his brother really enjoyed his reading. He scooted out of the comforter’s way so Papyrus could arrange it to his liking, and soon they were huddled close together. Sans sat cross-legged, leaned over the large paperback laid out in front of them both while Papyrus sat next to him, the comforter draped across both of their shoulders and around them like a blanket fort.

As Sans read the story for what had to be the eighteenth time that month, he really did feel a small stirring of peace in Papyrus’ company. He relaxed, shoulders hunched and his tone even and warm as the glow of the nightstand’s lamp bathed them both in orange. Not as comforting a sight as his brother’s magic, but the resemblance was there and for the first time in weeks, Sans felt just a little more at ease.

During the course of the story, Sans had paused only for a moment to get more comfortable, laying down with his arms propping him up beside his brother, who followed suit. It wasn’t long before the warm glow and comfort of his brother’s presence had lulled him into such a relaxed state that his words were getting slower, more hushed. Sometimes he’d read the same sentence twice or even three times, before his skull nodded, losing his battle against sleep. As his eyes finally drifted closed, Sans very nearly dropped onto the last few pages with a tired grunt of surrender.

Papyrus thought it best to leave the story unfinished, for once. Poor Sans was, unfortunately, too tired to even protest when he slid the book out from his lazy grasp and closed it, returning it to the nightstand with the others and to where he carefully inched up to turn out the light. The hue of Sans’ magic was more subdued as he gave in to sleep, curled next to his younger brother and using his forearm as a pillow.

“Lazybones,” Papyrus whispered at a fraction of his normal volume as he pulled the covers up to their skulls, and then gently patted Sans’ hand. “Like I could ever leave you in the Underground on your own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ReineofAberrants drew a short based on the closing scene of this chapter! [Click here to see!](https://www.deviantart.com/reineofaberrants/art/Never-Alone-757279008) ;U; *OMEGAFLAILING*


	2. Chapter 2

It was difficult to place the feeling. An enveloping comfort cocooned Sans’ soul as he slipped into that in-between world where monsters went when they dreamt. It was something he didn’t feel often lately, like being suspended in cloudy marshy water with shafts of light breaking through. Was it the sun? Had it always been this bright, this concentrated on him?

In some corner of his subconscious, Sans was aware that something was shielding him, handling him with so much care that he drifted by whatever that was below him, elevated in safety. He had a fleeting vision of bricks from a wall that had long since tumbled down, stresses in the granite and in the distance, the long thin noise of metal dragging on rock.

Did the sun always look that way? Pictures from magazines that landed in the Underground from the surface showed a speck of incandescent light, flooding the ceiling of the world with all manner of orange, pink, red, and gold. Maybe if he was seeing it, Sans thought it was the same place the sun went to sleep in too.

Even if he’d never seen it personally, he was sure this wasn’t how it worked. More lucid, he turned to look above him, the flood of light bathing him in that sweet, healing glow. He could detect faint traces of magic familiar to him. His grin tugged a little in embarrassment as affection flooded his soul.

Man, Papyrus was _really_ coddling him.

It was with good reason; there was a shifting mass below him where he was suspended, kept at bay by the shower of brilliant orange magic. Sans’ grin fell as a tightening fear coiled around him, more than a few familiar distant and unpleasant memories threatening him, making his soul pound.

The sound from the bottom of the chasm was long and raspy. He would’ve disregarded it any other night, if it hadn’t become one of his recurring weaknesses over time. It started out low, then heightened sharply, the slick scraping sound of metal on stone echoing from the deep.

No.

Metal on _bone._

His breath quickened as Sans scrambled in place to escape it, the noise approaching with vicious delight. The knife he was far too familiar with whet itself on his crumbling resolve as more wisps of darkness coiled around him, pulling at his bones to drag him further in. The noises shifted, ebbed and slashed, filling the skeleton’s skull with the errant whisper and rushing air of sharp steel.

He managed to jerk to the side, unable to see the enemy in the darkness. His brother’s magic had all but faded all into a tiny constellation far above him, leaving Sans to wrestle the demon on his own.

He huffed, the only way to pinpoint the demon’s attack was the flicker of his brother’s light on that dusty blade as he ducked again, using the stresses in reality to sidestep another swing. His injured heel cracked as Sans settled on it, enough to force him to wince as another flurry of slashes flew at him. He automatically threw his arms in front of him to block, knowing full well he didn’t have nearly enough defense or stamina to stand up to it should any hit find its mark. The air around their struggle grew thicker and denser and for a wild moment, Sans thought he was being subjected to Blue magic.

But that was impossible. In fact, the idea brought to mind some choice attacks he’d normally keep in reserve. He was getting better at throwing them off, attempting to break the sick and twisted grin off their pale, red-eyed face hidden in the shadows. Sans’ body was trembling in both effort and fatigue as he summoned a symphony of glowing bones, the hollow and cavernous space around them filling with a literal graveyard of his attacks.

Sans had to get rid of it. If he could stop them now, then Papyrus wouldn’t have to-

Wouldn’t _have_ to…?

Sans gave his head a shake, pushing the jarring thoughts away. He considered looking up to draw strength and courage from his brother’s magic. He couldn’t see it out of his peripheral vision, not as he danced around the wildly swinging demon. They were getting faster. Their swings were more precise, as if through practise. His eye lights faded to hollow shells as he realised… this _thing was already dead._

Then that was it. Sans tried to escape, seeing the futility of fighting when the odds were so heavily stacked against him. The terror in his soul had built up to that moment, layering on multitudes of timelines of different reasons, reactions and guides. Imploringly, he raised his bony hands upwards, his soul shuddering when he realised that Papyrus’ magic was gone.

And there was nothing.

Nothing; no protection, only darkness -- and it wouldn’t leave him alone, didn’t stop from swallowing him whole. The soulless, chilly laughter of a being with a child’s face and voice echoed as his fear paralysed him, toying with gnarled, spidery fingers. Then at long last, there was the gouge of the knife. The only betrayal of its mark was the reflection of his magic flooding his left eye in its blade.

Sans lurched backwards, clutching at his sternum and the gash that erupted into a sticky flare of red. His magic was flailing wildly as he attempted to save himself or any part of him to persist beyond just a memory. But he was falling, barely believing his eyes as his fingertips chipped and started to crumble away.

He agonised the thought of leaving Papyrus alone, feeling himself twist and lurch down into the limitless depths…

_Thud._

…Wait, what?

“SANS!”

Sans’ eye lights returned to their sockets. He jerked himself upright with a panicked sound of fright and confusion. His left eye was still blazing with magic, restless and wild as he covered it in distress, while the other hand clutched at his sternum. He eventually realised that they’d landed on the floor next to Papyrus’ bed. His brother was under him, half tangled in the puffy comforter they’d been wrapped in. Papyrus gave him a rather exhausted and sour look.

The darkness was gone, holed up inside Sans’ soul and only the magical rays of enchanted moonlight shone through Papyrus’ window to light them.

It figures his brother’s love would get him only so far into sleep before his mind would warp it. Sans looked down at Papyrus and huffed softly, his breaths still hitched and panicked from his nightmare.

“welp. that was… probably the least bad one this week, bro.” He gave a shaky and crooked smile, moving to get up and help Papyrus stand. His bones were rattling, his figurative nerves shot. “i appreciate you lookin’ out for me.”

“OF COURSE, SANS! WHAT KIND OF BROTHER WOULD I BE IF I DID NOT??” was the drowsy reply from the taller skeleton as he followed Sans back onto the bed, effectively wrapping them both in a bundle of bones and blankets. “EVEN IN YOUR SLEEP, YOU SHIRK YOUR DUTIES,” he added wryly. “NIGHT TIME IS FOR SLEEPING! NOT KICKBOXING YOUR BROTHER OFF HIS BED! OR I WILL HOLD YOU ALL NIGHT LIKE BABYBONES! I SWEAR… I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOTTEN YOU ALL RILED UP!” It was a subtle jab at Sans’ earlier secrecy and Sans knew it. He felt the twinge of regret.

“sorry, bro. nightmares, right?” Sans exhaled against the thick blanket as he attempted to calm down.

“OH, PUT THAT AWAY!” Papyrus replied sourly and tapped above his left eye socket. “IF ANYONE IS GOING TO BE USING MAGIC TONIGHT? IT SHALL BE ME, PAPYRUS -- AND ONLY TO SHIELD YOU. SINCE OBVIOUSLY, MY DEAR BROTHER, YOU’VE BEEN SO OUT OF PRACTISE THAT YOU CANNOT EVEN NAP WITHOUT PUTTING SOME… BACKBONE INTO IT.”

Sans shrunk under the blanket in shame, dispelling his glowing sclera in the process. “you don’t gotta do that. m’not babybones.” He heard the sigh of exasperation in response, then Papyrus’ arms found their way around him and pulled him close.

“NONSENSE, SANS. I DO WISH YOU WOULD ACCEPT MY AID. AFTER ALL! WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITHOUT A CARING AND COOL BROTHER SUCH AS MYSELF?”

Sans poked his head out from under the blankets, almost squinting in the darkness. Though his own magic had subdued from his fright, he saw the glow of Papyrus’ hue, soothing and mellow.

His grin tugged a little and he nodded his head in agreement. “so cool.”

It was Papyrus’ turn to nod, thoughtfully this time. “I WILL GIVE YOU A NICE DREAM,” he proposed, the glow of his magic drifting from him and encircling them both.

Sans tensed briefly as another rush of embarrassment flooded him. Papyrus really _was_ treating him like a child; coddling him, wrapping him in his soothing aura to lull him to sleep. Like a little kid with bad dreams, Sans thought bitterly.

“IT WILL HAVE BUNNIES! MEADOWS! ALL THE SPAGHETTI THE WORLD CAN OFFER! AND YOU! YOU WILL BE HAPPY! AND NOT TRY TO SABOTAGE… UNDERSTOOD?” Papyrus’ eyes narrowed daringly as his brother squirmed at his tone.

“m’not babybones,” Sans objected again, half-heartedly. The lulling sensation from before eased over him again; just as in before the world between things turned so very wrong. Sans’ soul fluttered restlessly at the memory and his hand went instinctively towards the imaginary wound at his chest.

“I KNOW! YOU ARE A PERFECTLY HEALTHY, WELL-ADJUSTED ADULT.” Papyrus’ tone could have been taken as sarcastic, if Sans thought of him that way. “HOWEVER… ADULTS NEED REPRIEVE TOO. I BELIEVE IN YOU!”

“i know you do,” the smaller skeleton murmured, allowing the steady and even pulses of magic to flood his bones and soul, lulling him back to sleep. Soon, Sans was wrapped in a warm cocoon of light, sheltered from the terrors of his psyche as Papyrus did as he promised.

And he actually slept.

~

He didn’t know for how long, but when Sans next regained consciousness, it wasn’t abruptly nor in a panic. It was peaceful, sublimely content, and as gentle as the magic daylight filtering through the window. His brother still held him loosely in his arms and he noted in surprise that Papyrus wasn’t awake.

Sans’ smile tugged down a little as he looked to his brother’s face, the twinge of guilt already knocking at his soul. Had he really stayed up all night just to make sure Sans slept…?

“DON’T YOU DARE,” came his brother’s voice in a groggy and warning tone. Sans nearly exhaled in relief, then had to laugh, the sound oddly distant and jovial. The thought that Papyrus had kept still enough to make Sans _think_ he was sleeping was somehow suddenly hilarious.

“what happened, paps? you not used to sleepin’ in?”

As though jinxed, his younger brother rose like a shot, as though he only just then realised it. He nearly threw Sans from the bed in his haste to get ready. Then Papyrus danced around the room, gesticulating at his alarm clock in frustration, which he admittedly didn’t need. He hopped on one foot as he got changed into his battle body and dialed out on his cellphone, balancing the device between his jaw and shoulder.

“CAPTAIN -- YES. NOT TO WORRY! THE GREAT PAPYRUS WAS MERELY… DELAYED! -- YES…” Papyrus’ eyes narrowed as he paused, noticing Sans’ inquisitive sleepiness. “YES. I WILL PASS ON THE MESSAGE, UNDYNE.”

Sans sat cross-legged on the bed amongst the bunched covers. It was difficult to stay awake, his head propped on his knee as he watched the entertaining display of Papyrus panicking. All because he thought he was ‘late’. Sans let out a snicker, then a laugh when Papyrus rounded on him, picked him up and held him under one arm to adjust the sheets.

“UNDYNE SAYS YOU ARE TO PATROL BY THE RUINS TODAY!”

“ok.”

“REMEMBER; NO LOLLYGAGGING.”

“ok.”

“NO MORE THAN EXACTLY THREE BREAKS, SANS!”

“ok.”

“AND PLEASE. RECALIBRATE. YOUR. PUZZLES!”

“ok.”

Sans huffed when Papyrus dropped him back onto the bed, giving his brother a sheepish grin. He sure seemed to be picked up a lot lately. He actually felt a little better with a night of sleep under his belt. He supposed he would have to do something nice for Papyrus, with all the trouble he went through lately.

“AND!” his brother continued as he strapped his boots on, “TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF.”

“sure thing, paps.” Sans suppressed an audible yawn and stretched, bones popping in the sockets. He waited for another lecture from Papyrus for it, but it didn’t happen. Perplexed, he blinked when Papyrus waved goodbye to him and ran out of the room. The footfalls thundered down the stairs, then another audible slam of the door sounded when his brother left the house.

“jeez,” he muttered to himself and scratched his jaw, twisting his skull from left to right to sort out several kinks in his neck.

He never thought he’d see the day when Papyrus would lie in bed all morning. Clearly he’s been a bad influence. Then Sans moved to go to his own room. It was as he’d left it -- socks, towels, tornado… everything where it should be.

He strolled along to his dresser where he’d left his cell phone and lamp on. It seemed that Papyrus hadn’t touched it, even though his clothes from the previous night had been cleaned and properly folded atop of it.

Wait, when did he have the time to do that…?

Sans gave his ankle an experimental rotation, noting the click with a sigh. Apparently, it was just going to be one of those days.

After changing, he pocketed a few items from his dresser; phone, keys, and some random sample packets of ketchup Grillby had given him. He took his time, checking his text messages as he strolled along the hallway. It seemed as though Undyne had tried calling a few times, then settled for texts. It was likely due to the fact that Sans’ voicemail was always full.

fsh (Last message received last Thursday: 4:06pm);

\- Your brother is worried! You better get home, punk!  
\- This sucks! Why aren’t you answering!   
\- YOU BETTER BE AT YOUR POST!!!   
\- Hey, Paps said he hasn’t seen you for a few days… you ok? YOU BETTER NOT BE SLACKING OFF!!!   
\- DON’T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE!!!   
\- Seriously, what the HELL, Sans!!

Sans scratched at his jaw as he shuffled downstairs to grab his hoodie, tapping the keys in to submit a little play on words and assure the rambunctious fish lady that he was fine. Thankfully, the hoodie had dried overnight and he slipped it on with a sigh.

Snowdin Forest, eh? Well, ok then.

His phone beeped, signalling a new incoming message.

bro (Last message received: 12:01pm);

\- SANS! THERE IS LEFTOVER SPAGHETTI IN THE MICROWAVE. PLEASE ENJOY MY HEARTFELT CREATION! I’VE ALSO LEFT SOMETHING FOR YOU AT THE DOOR. DON’T! NOT! WEAR THEM!!!

Sans glanced down to his feet, curious. In place of his well-loved slippers were a pair of black and white runners, looking quite well-off for being a used pair. It wasn’t often that ‘new’ things fell into the Underground, and usually they’d end up in New Home where the majority of monsters lived. Snowdin was so far out in the sticks that they made do with what they had most of the time. He whistled low, stooping down to inspect them.

This was different, too.

“what’re you doing, universe?” he muttered suspiciously. Was this another event that deviated from the timeline? He had to admit things were really bleary, even for his memory.

Sans decided to go with it, slipping on the worn shoes and bunching the laces behind the tongue. They seemed to fit snugly and as he walked around, they kept his ankle from clicking. An adequate deviation, he supposed.

After having his breakfast pasta, he meandered around doing what was required of him. He read the last yellow note on the abandoned sock in the living room and snickered while scrawling ‘ok’ just under Papyrus’ writing, then ever-so-slightly moved the sock a few inches from the television. Then he turned to the pile of letters and junk mail on the floor to grab the remaining postcards before heading out, flipping through each one.

He had to admit, it was unsettling when he saw his empty mailbox again. Sans couldn’t help the inner struggle that urged him to push all the letters back inside of it -- hell, to even put the fallen letter back in the snow just below it. But, seeing as the universe had other plans, he just rolled with the punches and decided to take his time and check up on his little side project.

The back of the house was always slippery, and even with new footwear Sans was leery about having another fall. He carefully manoeuvred around the ice and down the steps to his basement, then produced the key and walked inside.

The hum of electronics filled his head as he kicked the snow off his shoes and leaned against the door. It still felt like something so foreign, to look back on simple events that he should’ve known, and yet… due to laziness or apathy, just didn’t care to do before now.

As he poked through the postcards, Sans realised that most of them were from Papyrus, from dates spanning over the few years since they’d settled in Snowdin. There were excitedly written notes from different stations around the Underground, detailing his brother’s hopes and dreams, thoughts and wishes. Sans’ smile tugged; the simple reminder that his brother was always thinking of him lightened his mood.

He decided to write it down in an old and worn journal he kept at his workstation that had definitely seen better days. Spilled ketchup, grease and coffee stained its cover but the inside was far worse. Nearly all of its pages were covered in small bubbly letters, equations and diagrams; it was almost unintelligible. Sans picked up a pen, tapping it between his bony fingers in thought, and then ultimately decided to make a list.

Different things…  
\- slipped & fell by library. no injury/affliction to health.   
\- mailbox emptied. paps did it. never done that before. postcards from bro from all over.   
\- slipped on porch, hairline fracture; right talus head: -.02   
\- mild paranoia, triggered panic attack from previous offshoot?: “you must be so confused”. sorry, paps. guess i am.   
\- slept with paps in his room. recovered, might have a buffer, can’t be sure; ankle still clicking from fall.   
\- pap late to his post. never happened before.   
\- pap gave me shoes. never happened bef…

Sans tapped the pen against his teeth as though the noise was supposed to help him think.

“i think that’s all,” he muttered, then he shoved the journal and pen back into the drawer, eye lights settling on the postcards. _“hopefully,_ that’s all.” Worried, he rubbed at his sternum; the odd echo of the nightmare wound still bothered him.

It’d be better not to dwell on it, he supposed. He cast a reproachful glance at his covered machine; it couldn’t be fixed anyway, and Papyrus was expecting him to eventually be at his post. All things considered, life in Snowdin was pretty much uneventful compared to the capital. He wondered why he had brought that machine with him at all. For the most part, it just served as a bleak reminder of his past.

For now Sans ignored it, as he always did. It was time for him to get going. After he stuffed the postcards into his pocket, he locked up and left, making his way around the house and down the street. The shoes offered far better traction than his slippers ever could, and he was relieved he didn’t slip again in front of the library. The ice patch seemed to be gone though, along with everyone’s footprints.

As he passed Grillby’s, he stopped and looked up at the dimmed sign. Sans felt that he should at least apologise for the previous evening and tell the fire monster he was ok. It was then that his phone beeped again, signalling another message. He pulled it out of his pocket to read it, slowly wandering off to the side of the building.

bro (Last message received: 12:32pm);

\- SO! HOW ARE THE NEW KICKS?

His grin tugged lightly as he punched in his response;

*p cool bro can rly sneak around in em

Heh, classic. It wasn’t long before his brother sent another one;

\- THAT ONE WAS BAD AND YOU KNOW IT!

Sans snickered to himself, just hearing his brother’s irritation in his mind, and he paced around to walk back out front. As Sans rounded the corner, preoccupied with his phone, he didn’t see the fire monster hauling a rather heavy looking crate out of the bar, bottles clinking, then ultimately rattling loudly when Sans bumped into him.

It was quick thinking on Sans’ part. He dropped his phone in the process, but reached out to grab the other side of the crate so it wouldn’t fall.

“woops! heya, grillbz,” he offered lamely. “didn’t mean to…” He trailed off when he noted the other crates stacked outside the front door.

He raised a figurative brow at the fire monster, helping him to shuffle over and set the crate down by the other piles. With a grimace, Sans stooped down and grabbed his phone from the slush puddle. Well, damn. He rubbed it against his hoodie to try and dry it off.

 _“…Sans. You’re looking lively,”_ the fire monster greeted warmly, patting down the front of his vest.

Sans idly scuffed his shoe against the back of his leg and shrugged. “had a talk. had a nap. i wanted to tell you… sorry about last night.” Grillby merely shook his head as if dismissing the apology, flames crackling in the subtle breeze. Sans’ gaze settled on the crates. “so, uh… what’s all this?”

The bartender absently rubbed a forearm, looking at his handiwork. _“…Supplies running low. Travelling to New Home soon. Thought it best to prepare,”_ his ethereal voice crackled. _“Are you on break?”_

“nah,” the skeleton replied, scratching at his jaw. “actually… just headin’ for the ruins.” His grin fell when the thought occurred to him; “how’re you getting all this to new home? river person?”

 _“Ferry has been booked for weeks. Likely will have to utilise the boxes while I make the journey.”_ The bartender didn’t seem satisfied with his own plans, as though deliberating them even then.

“walkin’ it? what, through waterfall and hotland and the core…?”

Sans was more than a little concerned at this. He knew the initial move for Grillby had been a hardship -- Waterfall especially, which wasn’t too far away. It was such an expansive marsh and the water flows always moved the bridges and pathways, making it difficult for most anyone. Traversing it alone would be just more than a little daunting for the fire monster.

 _“Suppose I have no other choice. Have not heard back from any of the couriers, either.”_ He seemed rather put out at that as he shook his head and rolled his shoulder. Sans let out something of a sympathetic sigh, unsure what to say.

“i dunno… maybe i can help you out. y’know. for all the trouble i’ve caused you.” The fire monster seemed taken aback. His ember eyes were bright behind his glasses as he stared at the skeleton. Sans shifted in the snow, unsure how to take the look and feeling Grillby’s penetrating gaze. “i mean, i got patrol today, but… at least you’ll have help, right? and fuku’s too young to make the trip to help either. it’s better than going alone.”

 _“…Would not want to put you out, friend.”_ Grillby’s tone was gentle and grateful, though. Sans could tell he was worried about the journey through the marsh.

“can’t put out what you don’t put in, big g,” Sans joked and snickered, then quickly sobered up when he realised the horrible thing he’d said. The fire monster chuckled heartily as Sans covered his eyes as though to hide, feeling an odd pulling twinge behind his rib cage, embarrassed. “nevermind that. a-anyways, grillbz, i gotta… i should get going…”

_“…At a later time, then.”_

With that awkward encounter finished, Sans was off before he was subjected to any more mirth at his expense. Man, why’d he have to go and say something stupid like _that?_ If skeletons could blush, Sans would be blue in the face. Instead, he rubbed absently at his temple as he strolled away towards the outskirts of town.

Normally Sans would’ve taken a shortcut, but he felt he should conserve energy so early in the day. And by ‘early in the day’, he supposed early afternoon was as early as he’d be able to wake up without Papyrus hounding him. So instead, Sans actually did as he was told: looking over both his and his brother’s puzzles to make sure they were still set as he passed them.

It was a long walk and he was still lamenting his blunder by the time he arrived at his station. He leaned against the shelter and peered into the tall birches and spruces in the surrounding area. Nothing would happen. Nothing really ever _did_ happen. It would be a long day with no one to talk to.

Sans idly drummed his fingers against the counter top as he sat perched at his station. His other hand propped his chin while he hunched over the desk. White, white, and white. More snow. He threw his hood up to keep the snowflakes from landing in his eye sockets, exhaling long and loudly in his boredom.

Hours passed and he still worried over his bad joke and how Grillby took it. He couldn’t even call Grillby to apologise to him thanks to dunking his phone in the slush. Was he overreacting? Grillby seemed as though he’d appreciated the laugh. Sans felt a nervous chuckle rise in him, fidgeting with his phone, trying to make the buttons work to no avail.

“oh boy,” Sans muttered, running a hand over his face, attempting to stay awake. It would’ve been prime shut-eye time if he’d allowed himself to drift off.

It had been awhile, right? No one would notice if he even took a walk. He could play it off as actual patrolling -- and when was the last time a human came from the Ruins? Decades? Centuries? Why only from _that_ area?

A wisp of steam left Sans’ teeth as he exhaled in frustration, then he left his phone on the stool; it was useless carrying it around with him if it was fried anyway. He shuffled through the snow and around old worn pathways, eventually making his way to the Ruins’ entrance.

The large looming door was always locked, a great obsidian gate that reflected the snow and took on a nearly purple hue. It loomed far above Sans’ height, the vaulted walls melding into the rockface, preventing exploration by any kids in the area.

Sans scanned the environment, listening for any telltale signs that the universe was plotting something.

But nobody came.

He trudged further, pressing his hands against the heavy gate. Its doors looked as though they were sealed shut with magic, as always. Experimentally, he gave it a knock, his digits rapping an echo throughout the surrounding trees and valley, up into the caverns above.

No answer, of course. In the back of his mind, something told Sans it was probably too early for a voice to come forward… whatever that meant. Bits and pieces of memories fluttered to him as quickly as they disappeared again. One time, he thought he would’ve liked to pry the door open and see what was beyond.

But, he was lazy, and whatever curiosity Sans had was abruptly shrugged off as unmotivated to put any effort into. He decided to sit, leaning his back against the heavy gate as he pulled his head down further. His hands found their way back into his pockets and pulled out a few postcards. Waterfall… Hotlands… the then-recently renovated MTT Resort. He studied them, trying to find a hidden meaning behind each one. But they were from Papyrus, and the guy was so straightforward that nothing could very well be hidden, even in his texts.

Soon after, Sans stretched out his legs, severe boredom lulling him into a relaxed state. Maybe he’d try to get a little shuteye, as long as he kept it short. After all, this counted as break number one, right? He let out a soft chuckle at the memory of his brother’s message and Sans eventually dozed off.

For once, a nap was nice to have. He didn’t have any dreams, bad or otherwise; when he eventually woke up, Sans jostled the pile of snow that had settled on his hoodie and legs in a quiet daze. He just shrugged, figuring it was the remnants of his brother’s magic that allowed him to rest so peacefully.

After wandering back to his post, Sans sat back down and decided to wait out the rest of his shift, taking another handful of breaks at his discretion. At least only _one_ had been directly in front of Alphys’ many cameras. He knew she wouldn’t snitch on him, though.

In the distance, Sans heard the familiar sound of crunching snow and the even tempo of footsteps. Unconcerned, he opened an eye socket and watched his younger brother approach with something of a smirk on his face.

“SANS!! YOU’D BETTER NOT BE NAPPING!” came the boisterous yell from across the field. Papyrus’ shrill voice echoed around the area, and Sans couldn’t help but snicker the closer his brother came into view.

“haven’t napped for at least twenty minutes now. sup?” The smaller skeleton lounged and stretched over the counter, bones popping. Sans grinned up at Papyrus as he approached. He knew the sound irritated him and Sans was feeling a little more like his old self, for once. Mostly irritating.

“YOUR PHONE…?”

“oh. yeah, it got dunked on.” Lamely, Sans pulled it out of his pocket and attempted to push buttons, a feeble attempt to try to get his phone to turn on again. “it stopped working… i dunno. maybe five hours ago?”

Papyrus grabbed it out of Sans’ grasp and meticulously went over it in his hands, as though surveying an inscrutable puzzle. Then he eyed Sans, who looked up to him from his slouch with a slight droop to his ever-present grin.

“YOU RECALIBRATED YOUR PUZZLES.” It was more of a statement than a question, and Sans just shrugged, using one digit to scratch the inside of his nasal cavity with disinterest. “YOU ALSO ADJUSTED MY ORB PUZZLE.”

“mhm.”

“AND THERE ARE… FOOTPRINTS EVERYWHERE???”

Sans soon realised where this was going, hearing both the concerned _and_ excited tone in Papyrus’ voice. He sheepishly looked to his brother’s face, embarrassed. He wasn’t quite sure what to say or how to explain himself. Normally Sans wasn’t so productive. He tore his gaze away from Papyrus long enough to look at his own tracks through the snow in veiled surprise. Man, he _had_ wandered around quite a bit…

“i figured i’d do my job, for once,” was all he cared to admit with a shrug. Sans gave Papyrus a wink, watching as his brother’s posture stiffened and his expression bloomed into something intense and unquestionably proud.

Papyrus knew there had to be something more to Sans’ behaviour than that. He was acting very peculiar, but at the same time, not. It was an unsettling feeling that his ego just wasn’t accustomed to, and he tossed Sans’ broken phone into the air before snatching it mid-fall.

“THAT IS… FINE,” Papyrus finally said with a nod of approval. “I THINK THAT! ALL THINGS CONSIDERED… YOU DID YOUR BEST. WHICH IS MORE THAN I COULD EVER HOPE FOR! I AM PROUD OF YOU!” He gave his brother a flashy smile and Sans pulled the strings on his hoodie to hide his face as though embarrassed. “OH, STOP THAT! A JOB WELL DONE! I KNOW YOU’VE BEEN FEELING UNDER THE WEATHER LATELY…”

The reaffirmation of Papyrus’ encouragement bolstered Sans, and he couldn’t help but let out a puff of cold air, starting to get up in a long and exaggerated movement.

“you could say i’ve been… _snowdin?”_ Sans drawled, and then heard his phone loudly crunch in Papyrus’ grasp. He grimaced; well, if it hadn’t worked then, it sure wouldn’t now. But Papyrus was right, and far be it from him to overlook his moodiness lately. “sorry.”

For once, Papyrus let it slide. He returned Sans’ broken phone and then turned away from him. “DON’T DAWDLE ON YOUR WAY HOME!” he added as he stomped off.

“sure thing, paps.”

Once out of view, Sans huffed out another sigh, deciding he didn’t really want to trudge back through all the freshly fallen snow. Sans’ left eye socket flared as he gathered in energy, walking out of habit into the opposite direction to take advantage of the stressed atmosphere nearby. Then he warped with a quiet shift, landing just outside the bridge leading into Snowdin, marked by the colourfully decorated sign.

His feet landed with a soft crunch and Sans continued walking with a huff of exertion, the strain of fast-travel always a bit much for him, even if he never truly expressed it. He idly wondered if Papyrus realised he had this kind of power. He’d been careful to hide it since discovering it earlier in life. Experimentally, he summoned a small bone the length of his forearm, twirling it between his phalanges as he strolled past the shop and inn, humming a quiet tune as he went.

He noticed that Grillby was still loading crates outside of the restaurant, shutters drawn and lights out. Sans guessed he’d stayed closed for that day, much to his disappointment. He’d been looking forward to an order of burg after such a long shift. Maybe partake in some choice condiments, just to see Grillby’s reaction. The crates were scattered in a haphazard manner in front of Grillby’s, and Sans could see the fire monster resting against the barrel outside the front door.

Wait, was he smoking?

Sans would’ve made a joke about it, being a fire elemental and all, but as he approached, he noted the exhausted way the bartender held himself, however refined it was. Grillby looked just _tired._

“didn’t know you smoked,” the skeleton pointed out as he stepped into Grillby’s line of sight. Grillby ran a hand over his face and over the top of the flames on his head in a gesture that was both captivating and weary.

 _“…Burning things soothes me,”_ was all Grillby said in reply, even the dry crackle of his voice rumbly and low. Sans definitely picked up on the tone, his grin shifting downwards as he leaned against the building beside the fire monster.

“something putting you out?” Ahh, good old fire puns. His specialty. Sans had always liked them, much like the bartender.

Grillby turned to face him, his expression blankly inscrutable as Sans quirked his grin, just for him. A thin waft of smoke left Grillby’s face, embers glowing between his fingers from the dry twig.

_“Not looking forward to this trip, I suppose.”_

“i don’t doubt it. waterfall’s huge and it’s always changing.” Sans idly tapped the conjured bone against his shoes to remove the built up snow and slush. “when’re you headin’ out?”

 _“No later than tomorrow morning,”_ the fire monster replied bitterly.

“have you tried callin’ the river person again?”

 _“Their stop here isn’t for weeks yet.”_ Grillby’s demeanour popped in irritation, giving Sans an excuse to watch his visage. _“Already put this off for far too long.”_ There was a hint of resignation as Grillby sighed.

“never thought you’d be one for procrastination!” The skeleton gently prodded him, amused. He elbowed Grillby, grinning wide. “clearly i’m rubbin’ off on you.” Something at the back of Sans’ mind nagged at him but he kept the flustered thought away.

Sans’ grin was a little nervous now and Grillby noticed it, the flames arranging on his visage in a less irritated way and he kindled gently, unable to hide a subtle smirk in turn. He appreciated it when the skeleton went out of his way to talk to him. No one really bothered Grillby when he was off shift, unless he was behind the bar. If Grillby was honest, he still felt out of place in Snowdin. Most fire monsters would, he supposed.

But Sans was different. He was so easy to get along with. Sans’ humour, while normally bad, took on a different endearing charm when around him. Grillby had learned to enjoy the subtle and not-so-subtle wordplay Sans would sneak into their conversations, even if they were blunderous half the time, lately. The puns now eased the fire monster’s worry about his friend, who had been less and less like himself lately. It was a start, at least.

It gave him an idea. One that he’d been entertaining since meeting with Sans earlier that afternoon.

 _“Why not join me?”_ the fire monster asked suddenly, gesturing with his hands in a way that Sans hadn’t anticipated, as though beckoning him. The only thing that gave away Sans’ surprise was the sudden absence of his conjured bone, which disappeared mid-tap on his shoe with a wisp of cyan.

“huh?”

 _“Come with me. You know Waterfall, correct? Admittedly…”_ The fire monster rolled his shoulder, the gesture precise and elegant without much thought put into it. _“I don’t much care for strolls through humid terrain. Takes a lot out of me,”_ he revealed after a pause, his voice a quiet hum of fire that Sans only just made out. _“…Be doing me a grand favour.”_

“oh.”

Sans blinked, straightening his back against the building in thought. His soul trembled beneath his ribs and he had to push the feeling down again. He felt the bartender’s gaze on him, the light from his flames flickering onto his skull as he paused to give it some thought. Or at least, Sans made the effort to _look like_ he was. Of course, he’d do anything for such a long-time friend and he found himself nodding in agreement.

Besides, it could be interesting.

“yeah. sure, why not.”

Sans turned his gaze towards the fire monster in time to see a grateful flicker pass through Grillby’s form, making that gentle coiling, knotting sensation creep back into Sans’ soul. Grillby genuinely looked _relieved,_ and Sans felt a little silly that a short escort through Waterfall would elicit such an endearing response.

“d.. don’t mention it, grillbz.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> popato-chisps on tumblr drew art for this chapter (sfw) [here!](https://skerbbie.tumblr.com/post/179736447345/)


	3. Chapter 3

It had admittedly taken longer to convince Papyrus to be at ease with his absence than Sans thought. It took the better part of dinner prep, all of dinner, and half-way through MTT Celebration Hour Extravaganza for his brother to stop laying it on quite so thick.

“YOUR HEALTH IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR SUCH A JOURNEY!” he kept repeating at almost every commercial break. Sans couldn’t help but flinch at the jab despite knowing Papyrus never meant any offense. Papyrus didn’t seem to notice, thank god. “YOU DON’T EXERCISE!! BESIDES! WHO WOULD TAKE OVER FOR YOU? WHEN WILL THIS BE? WHEN WILL YOU GET BACK?”

“paps, i already told you. i’ll be fine, grillby’s decently strong and i got a buffer.” Sans slumped back into the couch cushions, his body sinking lower and lower with every protest. He knew Papyrus was worried, but Sans shrugged lamely as though to excuse it. “besides. i already promised.”

Wait, that might’ve been the wrong thing to say. He saw Papyrus’ skull whirl around and fix him with an astonished look, and Sans couldn’t hide the flinch nor the discomfort on his face. He slunk lower, holding out his hands in an effort to placate his brother.

“please don’t.”

“PROMISED??? YOU DON’T PROMISE! IT’S THE ONE SINGLE THING YOU EVER DO. WITHOUT FAIL.” Papyrus’ eyes narrowed with suspicion. “WHY?”

For once, Sans didn’t shrug. Not really knowing what to say, Sans faltered, but he at least had the sense to appear to be searching for words. They didn’t form as quickly as he would’ve liked. He wanted to say that he liked Grillby and wanted to do him a favour for a favour’s sake. He felt a tensile shortness creep into his soul, of an oddly gushy and warm sensation that flooded outwards with the idea, and Sans actually thought that he’d admit that he  _ liked  _ Grillby.

His brother’s gaze drilled into him expectantly, then Papyrus threw his hands up, throwing his back against the couch almost theatrically. “WELL… I SUPPOSE! SINCE YOU’VE ALREADY PROMISED.”

Sans’ soul erratically flip-flopped around with the little white lie. Papyrus  _ did _ have a point; Sans had said time and time again that he hated making promises. But the thing was, while he hadn’t  _ actually  _ promised Grillby, Sans still wanted to help him out. He even looked forward to the morning. It was an almost exhilarating feeling when he realised it, having never looked forward to mornings  _ or  _ doing things. Sans chalked it up to another deviation and just rolled with things as they came.

“YOU’LL HAVE TO SEND MY REGARDS TO UNDYNE WHEN YOU PASS THROUGH,” Papyrus added thoughtfully, then asked, “AND JUST HOW ARE YOU CARRYING ALL THAT JUNK ACROSS WATERFALL, ANYWAY? YOU’D BETTER NOT BE PLANNING TO USE MAGIC THE ENTIRE TIME!”

“i think grillbz mentioned something about item boxes,” the smaller skeleton said quietly, attempting to calm his excited soul’s pulse. Idly, he fidgeted.

“OH.” Papyrus paused, his eyes narrowing at his brother’s more-than-usual silence. “YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT THOSE. THEY MAKE THINGS ENTIRELY TOO EASY! I DON’T LIKE THEM!”

“yeah, not a lot of people do. it comes in handy, though. especially now.” Sans shrugged, not wanting to get into another argument about boxes. “just call me another box lover.”

“YOU’RE JUST BIASED.”

Papyrus sighed with that, and they spent the rest of the evening in more or less comfortable silence until it was time for bed. Sans had a difficult time convincing Papyrus that he’d be fine to sleep on his own. After all, Sans was a ‘well-adjusted adult’, and he still felt a little chagrined with Papyrus’ concern. Still, he’d managed to let Papyrus think that he was fine to sleep on his own. Not bothering to change out of his clothes, he dropped onto the old mattress in his room.

Sans addressed his worn psyche, thinking bitterly with a quiet plea in his soul. He silently begged for no horror-terror things that night, no fights to the death with an unknown creature, no weapons that tore him shoulder to hip.

Admittedly, he was restless for the better half of the evening, but eventually fell asleep.

His dreams weren’t anything special. The familiar scenes of darkness were there, but he resisted them. The shallow echo of wind through an endless expanse was deafening as his soul shivered, ready to flee at any hint of a downturn. Yet the endless night eventually eased, allowing him some semblance of restful sleep as his innermost demons kept their distance.

Perhaps it was the excitement for something new and better that was keeping it at bay? Sans couldn’t overthink it, only groggily pulling himself from slumber with the faintest of noises crackling outside of his consciousness.

Was that fire?

Sans pushed a hand over his face, eye lights scanning the room as his window pooled with the first magical beams of morning. It was way too early; his mind was playing tricks on him. He would’ve loved nothing more than to lay in bed for a few more hours, but… he had promised. Not Grillby, but to  _ himself. _ Sans reluctantly pushed himself up, joints popping as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. It was difficult to keep his eyes open, barely stifling a yawn.

He sat for a few minutes longer, pensively looking inward as he scratched the crest of his hip and under his shirt. He was rested. Hell, the buffer he wasn’t sure about yesterday was  _ definitely  _ there today. Huh. Guess the bunny kid at the inn was right about a good night’s sleep. He could probably fall four to eight times that day and not have to worry about Falling Down. He snorted derisively at his own joke of a mortality and moved to get up and go downstairs.

Today would be a big day.

Of course, Papyrus was already up; the guy felt that sleeping any longer than four hours to be an utter waste of time. Yet he was always energetic, milling around the house to clean or to prepare breakfast as Sans slept the morning away.

Sans gave a low yawn again as he made his way into the kitchen, where his brother was fixing their usual food and he slumped into his chair, propping himself on the table while still in a doze.

If Papyrus was shocked by his brother’s early rising, he hid it well. “HAD A GOOD NIGHT?” Sans only gave a subtle nod, his eyes still closed but smiling all the same.

Papyrus wasted no time in giving him a lecture while dishing out a plateful each of spaghetti for breakfast. For some reason Sans felt that it was a little peculiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on  _ why.  _ At least, not until much later, when Sans realised that Papyrus only made his spaghetti for  _ others, _ never trying it for himself.

After a listful of warnings, precautions and reminders, Sans was finally allowed to leave. He’d left his phone in his room; the screen was cracked and it refused to turn on no matter the charge, so it was pointless carrying it around. He’d also left the postcards on his dresser, not wanting to lose them. He shuffled out the door with one last goodbye to Papyrus.

Plodding down the street towards Grillby’s, Sans saw that the crates were still everywhere, but in neater stacks. Some had even gone missing earlier on. The skeleton tilted his head at the fresh puddles of melted snow and slush around the entrance and around the piles as he came to the conclusion that Grillby had probably already gotten started.

As if summoned, the fire monster trudged through the snow behind him, beaming with a short gesture as salutation. Sans found himself grinning despite himself and their precarious journey ahead.

Grillby was dressed in more clothing than he did in day-to-day life and was looking quite sharp. He had donned a large, double-breasted black jacket with a collar, sleek black trousers, high boots as they’d no doubt encounter puddles, and gloves for his hands.

“you ready for this?” It was more to himself than to Grillby, but the bartender nodded gently in response.

_ “The path is wetter than usual,”  _ the fire monster reported with distaste.

“it’s  _ waterfall,” _ Sans reminded gently. “i’ll keep you safe. you don’t even gotta worry about it.”

And with that, they began the trek through the streets, crates in hand to offload into the first box in Waterfall. It would’ve been easier if the box by the shop wasn’t constantly being utilised by the shopkeeper and her kids, but neither of them could bring themselves to impose on her.

Grillby had been right about the humidity, but Sans felt he liked Waterfall just a little more than Snowdin. It was his favourite place, after all. Snowdin had the potential for ice, whereas Waterfall was easy walking the whole way through. Well, provided he didn’t cheat.

It had been a few hours before the two of them had finished unloading the crates into the box, watching each one disappear to its destination in the void. Sans laughed as a thought came to him, his chuckles bouncing and echoing off the glittering caves and stalactites above.

“it’s a good thing we have more sense than to hop in, eh?” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the box as Grillby closed it, missing the sputter of flames as the fire monster chuckled wistfully.

_ “…Would certainly make things easier,”  _ he agreed as he followed the skeleton a short distance away to the first bridge, then stopped short.  _ “…Oh.” _

“oh. yeah, this’s a problem…”

Sans scratched the back of his head, his grin tugging a little nervously. The path was out just after his second sentry station and large rocks would occasionally fall into the water from above, creating huge splashes. He inspected the flow, the cool water lapping at the sides of the pool as it threatened to breach the soft ground. Definitely too dangerous for Grillby to chance.

“yeah… stay here a sec, grillbz.”

The fire monster didn’t argue as Sans strolled around the pool to the sequence of bridges, old wood and metal creaking softly as the roar of rushing water filled his head. It was a little slippery, the area being so close to Snowdin’s cold, but it was manageable with his shoes, at least. Sans inspected the falling water and poked around the pathway before he returned to where Grillby was standing, waiting for him.

“the bridge is out,” he reported with a shrug and an audible sigh. When the fire monster’s demeanour shrank and his colour reddened visibly, something behind his ribs twinged. “i mean…” Sans deliberated, scratching his neck, thoughts whirling in his head. “i could still get us across, though.”

At the fire monster’s inquisitive look, Sans hunched his shoulders, then jerked his skull into the direction of his abandoned outpost. At least no one but Grillby was around to see. It was a lot easier to explain one-on-one, and the less chances that Papyrus would find out, the better.

_ “…Apologies, friend. I don’t think I can allow you to carry me across. I have my reputation to consider, after all.” _

Sans started at that, then laughed, the sound louder than he’d intended. “wha…? no, i mean i know a shortcut.”

At the confused glance, he beckoned Grillby over, Sans’ eye lights seeking out the telltale whisper in the air that revealed the points he could exploit. He’d done it before, multiple times, but… never with witnesses, and never with a passenger. He was actually feeling something akin to stage fright with Grillby looking at him curiously, expectantly.

Sans nervously fidgeted as he saw a pathway crease and open up, strolling up towards the wall where the telltale waver shifted in place, for him and no one else.

“don’t tell paps, eh? he thinks i’m lazy enough as it is.”

Without glancing back to the fire monster, Sans held out his hand in a beckoning gesture, his soul thumping harder with every approaching footstep.

Grillby didn’t seem to fully comprehend; at least, not entirely. A shortcut to others meant an alternate path, not an ultimate skip through reality. Becoming increasingly flustered, the skeleton turned to grab the bartender’s gloved hand, then turned and pulled Grillby along through the tear in the gridline.

_ Thump, thump, thump-thump. _

What the hell even  _ was _ that sensation?

On the other side of the water-filled gully, Sans abruptly unhanded Grillby. In one fell swoop, Sans shoved his hands so far into his pockets that his hoodie threatened to take his skull clear off at the neck. He watched as his friend’s flames whipped around, as though he wasn’t sure just what exactly had happened. But they were on the other side, and he wasn’t extinguished. It was starting off alright, and Grillby had to admit for a moment that he was excited.

His bright eyes landed on the skeleton, who appeared to be cowering from his praise.  _ “Sans! That was amazing! And extremely useful. Though, why such a short distance…?” _

Sans shuffled in place, still avoiding the bartender’s striking eyes. “i, uh. i don’t got much stamina for longer stints, heh,” he apologised quietly. His magic restlessly coiled around his soul at the compliment. Uneasy, he rubbed his heel with his shoe as though it would dispel the sweet ache. “i’ve never had to take anyone else with me, either.”

Grillby adjusted his jacket, then tightened the fit of his gloves.  _ “Then I am your first.” _ He noted the way Sans tensed at his choice of words, and he couldn’t help the delight that he felt at the idea of flustering his friend. It seemed that Sans was not confident, didn’t receive compliments much, or both.  _ “…I believe I think I made the correct choice by asking you to join me. Thank you.” _

“sure thing,” Sans replied dumbly, his fingertips rubbing against themselves in his pockets.

He followed behind the flame monster, watching the crystals and moisture glisten as they passed. A rich warm light bathed the two through the tight corridor and into the next cavern, where Sans strolled up to the small packages in a row while Grillby contemplated another knocked out bridge that once more impeded their progress.

“comin’ through,” Sans grunted with all four pods in tow, tossing each one with practised ease into the water, where they drifted to the opposite side and blossomed into a viny pathway.

The fire monster hummed in concentration as he cautiously stepped across the exact middle of the bridge, flames flickering erratically with the unsure surface. When he was safely on the other side, Sans followed into the larger room.

_ “…These weren’t here last I came through,”  _ the fire monster observed while stooping to inspect the bridge seeds.

“yeah. they’re the captain’s, i think. likes her puzzles. or maybe someone else who likes ‘er.”

_ “Do you not?” _

“the captain? i don’t think i’m her type.”

_ “The puzzles.” _

Sans shrugged slightly, the gesture noncommittal with a slight grin at his teeth. “too much effort. but i  _ did  _ add to this one.”

Sans jabbed his thumb towards the eastern-most side of the room. There in the corner stood a lonely little isle in the marsh, surrounded by murky water. At its centre stood a small sign. It certainly looked haphazardly put together and askew, and very likely something that Sans had created.

“congratulations. you failed the puzzle.”

Grillby gave Sans a withering look at the ensuing burst of laughter.  _ “…Seems like a waste of time,” _ he noted, his voice crackling with irritation.

“aw, relax. the puzzles reset every so often, and no one  _ really  _ gets trapped.”

Regardless, Sans felt reprimanded by the fire monster’s tone. Even Grillby’s stance was rigid, hands holding his arms as though the threatening moisture was something unfathomably dire. Grillby’s flames lowered, then gradually pulsed. His expression was unreadable, as always.

Concerned, the skeleton walked forward to inspect his visage. “how’re you holdin’ up, big g?” His eye lights settled on the lightly flickering flames wafting from Grillby’s head. “you don’t look so hot.” He watched as the bartender’s fires lowered, then pulsed again, as though in a shudder.

_ “It is wetter than I anticipated.” _ There was the low hiss of steam through Grillby’s voice and Sans’ eye sockets hollowed, the lights inside shrinking to pinpricks as realisation dawned on him.

“jeez, grillbz. don’t force yourself! c’mon, i know a dry place where you can rest.”

It took only a few moments, but Sans’ mind was racing while he fumbled through another puzzle with Grillby keeping a steady lean against the cave wall. He knew that the journey would be difficult for the fire monster by himself, but Sans hadn’t realised to what extent Waterfall had been affecting his friend.

The moisture crackled against Grillby’s heat and evaporated, releasing wisps and columns of steam where he stood. Grillby continued to watch as Sans released the last seed into the water, forming a bridge around a sharp corner and out of view.

“steady-”

Sans moved forward first. His phalanges itched with magic as he prepared himself in case Grillby slipped or  _ worse.  _ His soul was doing that strange noise again, clamouring in his rib cage; the fire monster didn’t appear to notice it, or he was too polite to acknowledge the disturbance as he safely crossed.

Sans led Grillby to sit at his favourite spot, helping him down beside the lone echo flower. He snapped his fingers near the flower’s head, erasing its previous message when it clicked back mockingly. No one needed to hear that, after all.

_ “You know all manner of hiding spots,”  _ the fire monster observed dryly as another pulse flared, easier now without being so close to pools of water.

“and you hate gettin’ wet.” Sans shrugged, leaning forward against the back of the bench beside the bartender.

Grillby’s ember eyes narrowed, and he turned his head to glower at Sans.

“sorry. thought we were pointin’ out the obvious,” the skeleton elaborated with a soft chuckle. Then Sans scratched his skull in thought when Grillby hummed disapprovingly in response. “i thought you were ok with water? i mean… you say fire elemental, but that’s not really what you are?”

Grillby’s gloved hand passed through the flames on his head again, then he waved the offending steam away with a grimace.  _ “…Would be fine,”  _ he agreed after a suspicious pause, as though in thought.  _ “Should I fall into it, the water would turn to vapour instantly and aggressively. Call it more of a… constant worry for others.” _

Sans nodded slowly, understanding. His deal was physics though, not so much xeno-biology. “you’re worried you’d hurt someone. i getcha.” He rounded the bench and sat down beside Grillby, ignoring the echo from the flower next to them, still imitating his snap. “welp, you don’t gotta worry with me around. if you need a shortcut, i’m your guy. we can stay here as long as you need to coo-”

_ “Please, Sans.” _

“…ool… down,” the skeleton finished, his tone dropping and his words stuttering to a halt.

Had he gone too far? Sans’ soul lurched uncomfortably behind his ribs and he shrunk down into his hoodie. While he waited, his eye lights picked out every spot of quartz and ore in the carved walls and floor of the room for a distraction.

He stayed quiet, allowing the fire monster to calm down enough that his flames returned to their normal splendour. The heat from him filled the room, drying out the bench they sat on, along with dispelling any steam that had accumulated. The fire monster’s presence was admittedly pretty relaxing. The warmth was enough to send Sans into a light doze as he waited for Grillby.

It was only until he felt the easement of the bench unbuckle that Sans stirred, cracking an eye socket open. He took a moment to look at his travelling companion; it seemed as though the fire monster had gathered his bearings and was adjusting his jacket with something akin to an apologetic look. Sans took the cue to get up, and soon they found themselves back in the adjacent room, solving more puzzles to continue their journey.

As they walked, Sans’ tension eventually melted away, falling in step behind the taller monster. Now that he knew that Grillby couldn’t  _ really  _ get hurt, Sans moved without a care in the world. He likened Grillby’s need to rest with his old paranoia and panic attacks; something he was familiar with.

The next room after the star-viewing room was another that Grillby had anticipated the least. He scowled at the tangled shadows of typha reeds and vines sticking out from the marshy expanse, his footsteps slowing to a stop. Drowsing while he aimlessly walked along, Sans hadn’t noticed and ended up bumping into him.

He blinked up at the fire monster, looking around to get his bearings. Grillby’s flames were jutting around again, and he reassuringly patted Grillby’s arm. “c’mon, boss. this path’s easy-peasy.” The skeleton kept his voice calm and he stepped out in front of Grillby, giving him a flashy smile.

Steam rose from Grillby’s heat as he continued, following Sans this time. He kept his bright eyes trained on the sleek wooden path, untrusting. The platforms swayed with their combined weight as the water lapped around the murky depths around them. Grillby’s breaths released in short puffs of smoke, the crack and simmer of the air drying around him as they progressed down the long winding docks.

For a time, Sans turned and walked backwards, hands folded and resting behind his head. Having taken the route so often, he knew precisely where to step and he told Grillby short stories to keep his attention on him instead of the wide open lake around them.

It would’ve been all good. His slippers would’ve been sufficient, but Sans didn’t notice that his laces had wriggled loose from where he’d lazily tucked them in behind the tongue. Nor did Sans see the tangled ropes of vegetation that had grown over the boards. He was mid-sentence before he realised what had happened, immediately lost his footing, and lurched backwards with a strangled noise all in the same moment.

He saw Grillby’s eyes widen and his flames react in alarm before Sans cursed loudly. Then he hit the dark waters, soaking him to the bone and filling every emptiness in his body. The weight of the water started to drag him down.

With little care for his own safety, the fire monster scrambled to the side of the dock and thrust his arm into the water to grab a hold of the front of his hoodie, just as Sans started to sink. Upon contact, steam rose and water started to boil in startling swiftness, forming a dense fog around the two. Hastily, the fire monster pulled Sans onto the dock and away from the edge, his breaths shaking.

Not that Sans could see anything, but there hadn’t been any high-density vapour explosion; likely due to Grillby’s protective clothes and fast thinking. At any rate, Grillby wasn’t nursing his arm, so Sans figured that he was fine, just a little shaken up. Distracted, Sans realised that his skull was filled with marshy water and he groaned in disgust, tilting it to one side to drain it.

_ “…re you alright!?” _

One of Sans’ eye lights focused and settled on the fire monster, who looked fired up and agitated all at once. He was held, each of Grillby’s gloved hands on his upper arms. Flames licked around Grillby’s face in concern, and admittedly the way the fire monster’s voice was in such panic for him was oddly endearing… but he was also rather close.

The fleeting notion of  _ ‘good thing I can’t blush’ _ passed through Sans’ head and he gave Grillby an awkward thumbs-up to assure him that he was ok. Still in his grasp, Sans leaned to the other side and gave his skull a tap to drain the remaining water.

“i owe you one,” the skeleton groaned as his soul thrummed hard in his chest. The water wasn’t quite gone and added an echo to his voice. He drew up a leg to get up before he paused, looking between them as his eye lights faded in slow realisation, then gradual panic. “shit. h-hold on-”

He tore himself from Grillby’s grasp, lunging over the side of the dock with a grunt while the fire monster exclaimed loudly and moved to grab him again beneath his ribs.

“i-said-hold-on-my-leg’s-”

Sans grunted desperately between huffs as he outreached his hand toward the reeds, giving the water a helpless paddle to get his detached limb to drift over. Of course, the limb was just as stubborn as he was and bobbed mockingly in place. Sans couldn’t believe how embarrassing the day was turning out to be with just this one folly, alongside many other cringe-worthy moments that he was trying desperately not to linger on.

Sans strained in effort with Grillby’s arms locked around his middle to prevent him from falling in again. The steam was making it incredibly difficult to see, and if Sans didn’t get his leg back, well… suffice to say, they’d have to go looking for it.

The leg drifted out of reach and the fog was a nightmare. Sans couldn’t even grab the appendage with his magic before it slipped between the reeds and out of view.

“no-” Sans hung there for a moment, paralysed with horror and abject mortification. He couldn’t have possibly let that happen. Sans allowed Grillby to pull him up again and he hung back in his arms, a low groan of despair echoing from him. “damn it!”

_ “Where does it lead? Will you be alright?” _ Grillby’s aura still crackled wildly, steam coming off from his arms where his clothes had gotten wet.

Sans gingerly eased back on his remaining leg, glaring at the empty right kneecap with distaste. This happened way too often for him to admit, but never had he actually  _ lost  _ an appendage, and never his leg.

“i’ll be fine,” he finally answered with a frustrated huff. He knocked his skull again to drain the last dregs of the water. “it’ll… probably turn up at the dump.”

Irritation settled into him when Grillby moved to stand, holding out his hand for Sans to take. Suddenly, Sans realised just how big of a problem his condition was going to be as he pulled himself up with no small effort, teetering like a goddamn fool on one leg and soaked to the bone.

_ “Sans, please don’t make a joke of this,”  _ the fire monster pleaded, his tone actually concerned. The skeleton stared at him, having fleetingly considered it, grinning crookedly. Sans redoubled his hold on the fire monster’s arms as a pathetic laugh rippled through him, nearly losing his balance as a result.

“actually… i was gonna say i’m not gonna be able to walk ‘til we find it.” It was a defeatist way of acknowledging that he needed help. Sans wasn’t one easily swayed into asking, and the thought of doing so now… he wasn’t really up for it. It was entirely humiliating.

Sans avoided the fire monster’s gaze, his eye lights turned downcast at the rippling waters with disgust.

Grillby then gently removed one of Sans’ hands from him, turning in place to hunch over, exposing his back and beckoning him to hop up. The skeleton’s soul trembled as realisation dawned on him that even Grillby offering to carry him made shame bloom inside of Sans like a bruise. It seemed like he really would be useless the rest of the way -- or until they found his missing leg.

Cautiously, since his hoodie and clothes were dripping wet, Sans wrapped his arms around the fire monster’s neck, bones rattling uneasily as Grillby secured his hold under his femurs. The contact with flame steamed the remaining marshy water within his skull as the fire monster started to walk, his body oddly tense.

“sorry, boss,” Sans said quietly, truly embarrassed.

_ “There is nothing to apologise for,” _ Grillby replied, his tone gentle as he shifted the skeleton more comfortably against his back.  _ “Relax. Direct where we go from here.” _

“east after the thicket,” Sans supplied, his voice sounding a little nervous as he felt the fire monster’s perpetual warmth seep into his clothes and bones. He’d never felt heat before. “there’s another dry room up ahead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kaythegoodghost drew art for this chapter (sfw) [here!](https://skerbbie.tumblr.com/post/174890055860/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby carries Sans through the underground. A skeleton ignores his feelings and instead blathers about quantum access points, like a champ. Slight drama intensifies.

Brooding over the loss of his leg, Sans preferred not to talk any more than he had to. There was a worming, unwholesome lurch when his soul responded to each phantom movement. It was as though it knew that the appendage was floating along murky currents and blindly knocking against unmentionables in the marsh.

He ignored the questioning glances the few local monsters shot them on their way by, echo flowers up ahead sniggering and whispering as Grillby silently passed. An hour or two, perhaps longer had already passed since the start of their journey, longer still since Grillby had started carrying him. Sans noted the calm yet careful stride. Grillby stepped around puddles despite wearing boots, and walked around streams of water that fell in piddling currents from the stalactites above.

He shuddered a time or two even with Grillby’s heat, which caressed the side of his skull as he hunched over the fire monster’s shoulder. He gave directions and pointed to pathways until Grillby approached the room Sans had previously indicated.

Though the dry room was empty, it looked like some other monster was starting to set something up. They weren’t there now, which was all Sans could ask for as Grillby set him down by the eastern wall, seating himself beside him.

_ “You rattle, friend.” _

Sans gave a dismissive grin, rubbing the dry socket of his kneecap with a huff. It had started to ache, but that wasn’t necessarily the only reason his bones were jittery.

“you wouldn’t get it,” he murmured, almost flinching as something in his soul felt like a lurching drop, like vertigo. “it’s not a fun experience, to say the least.”

_ “…No, I imagine not,”  _ the fire monster replied thoughtfully, watching him.  _ “Can you tell when it’s nearby?” _

“it just fell a long way down,” the skeleton explained sourly. Anxiety twisted his grin into more of a grimace. “i can’t exactly pinpoint it, no.”

Sans huffed out a sigh and listened to the crackle of Grillby’s flames, shutting his eyes to revel in the peaceful moment. Eventually, the ebb and flow settled inside of Sans, whispers and coercion for him to go find his missing piece tugging at him to leave.  _ In a minute,  _ he irritably thought, although he didn’t exactly enjoy the experience of Grillby carrying him. At the same time, Sans wasn’t particularly opposed to the idea.

It seemed as though it was all too often lately that people were picking him up like it was a thing to do.

_ “Is the junkyard easy to get to?” _ Grillby asked, having watched Sans for a while. As with most other people, he didn’t know much about a skeleton’s make up. To his knowledge, there were only two in the entire Underground, and Papyrus and Sans never really got hurt.

“we can take another shortcut once we’re ready.”

Sans shrugged but deep inside he knew he was pushing it. While the dump wasn’t too far from their current position, if they chose to walk the shoals their path would be filled with great glowing pools and falling water. He didn’t want to subject the fire monster to that kind of panic again. His soul still felt all twisted up inside of him because of it.

Even though Grillby didn’t say anything to that, he was still worried. So he waited while Sans rested slumped against the wall. He looked, for lack of a better term, worse for wear. Grillby was certain that Sans might’ve been putting on a strong front for him, to keep him distracted and optimistic. With the constant rattling, however, Grillby acknowledged that Sans was having a bad time.

The silence stretched on as the two remained quiet during their rest.

When Grillby next stood up, Sans reopened his eyes to watch him, a fleeting self-consciousness passing over his face when he was hoisted up again.

“are you sure you don’t need more time?”

_ “Do you?” _

“nah, you’re the only one movin’ at this point…”

Sans’ body tensed when Grillby moved his hands under his femurs again, the heat and a prickling sensation spreading through his bones and upward. Shaking just a little more, Sans tightened his hold on his whole side and grabbed Grillby’s hand from it, guiding it in front of him.

Grillby’s hand was warm through the glove.

“o-ok. so again, keep it to yourself-”

He reached over the fire monster’s shoulder, avoiding the sidelong glance Grillby gave him in askance. He gripped the fire monster’s hand, this time forcing a vortex to reveal itself to him. Sans knew that the gesture wasn’t entirely necessary, but it bolstered him to have the actual physicality pulling at him. It took a lot more effort than simply looking for a rift.

“walk ‘up’,” Sans ordered, his voice strained and taut.

And Grillby did.

In a blink, they were in another place, looking around to survey their surroundings. If Grillby had noticed the tear in reality, he didn’t mention it. He only tapped the toe of his boot against the very real platform under him while taking in the scenery around them. It was likely that he didn’t, Sans observed; maybe it was something only  _ he _ could see or he knew what to look for.

There were piles of garbage around, haphazardly sorted into smaller organised plots by whomever lived there. They littered a shallow river, where tattered plastic bags and pieces of old newspaper bobbed and circled in the currents. With Grillby lingering, the vapour had started to wisp around them and Sans lowered his arm over Grillby’s shoulder again, holding back a wheeze of utter exhaustion.

That had taken a lot out of him and it had only been a little more than two hundred yards from the first gap. It was the depth that was the breaking point, the hesitating slowness in which Grillby passed through with his magic, and the effort of hauling them  _ both  _ through to their current placement without leaving either of them behind.

Sans lowered his jaw against Grillby’s warm shoulder, his bones drinking in the heat as Grillby nervously adjusted his hold on him. Sans would’ve given it a lot more thought if he wasn’t so damned tired.

_ “Are you alright, Sans?” _

His soul pulsed gently at the sound of his name before Sans realised that he’d fallen silent, ready to doze on Grillby’s back, emanating heat like a constant furnace. He was exhausted and comfortable, all shame soothed away by the radiating protection he felt from Grillby.

“all good,” Sans lied, his voice croaky and almost threadbare. “we’ll --  _ you’ll  _ have to walk around… to look for it.”

Grillby turned his head slightly as if to scrutinise the skeleton’s face, but then seemed to think against it and walked to the edge of the platform. He stared down at his reflection and the shallow water, and how the light rippled and chopped on the waves. The water reached only up to the ankles of his boots, by his estimate.

Cautiously, Grillby settled his right foot into the eddying pool, cool air mixing with his body’s heat in long arcing tendrils along the surface. Grillby’s body flared and pulsed again as he worried for his friend’s safety, each step through the water calculated and agonised.

“you’re doin’ great,” Sans murmured quietly. His hands were barely even holding onto Grillby’s jacket, precautiously perched as though he’d slip right off if the fire monster wasn’t careful. “nothin’ bad’ll happen. don’t worry.”

_ “…Cannot help but feel you’re falling asleep on me,”  _ Grillby said mildly in an effort to make light of their situation. He had developed an exceptional read of how Sans’ mind worked and he knew the skeleton didn’t respond well to being fretted over. He was always up for jokes, though.

“would i do that?” The skeleton’s grin was sardonic, amused despite his disposition. He heard the soft hiss of an unsure chuckle and made an effort to lift his head from Grillby’s shoulder. “i think it’s down there.”

He gestured vaguely down the path where more lumbering piles of trash were scattered about. Grillby continued at a slow pace, careful not to kick up any water as he lit their way.

Sans felt the way Grillby tensed, holding onto his femurs as they passed through the murky glade. The mist from the falling water on either side of the fire monster quickly evaporated and masked the area. Although Sans was trying his best to keep awake, Grillby’s pace was precise and measured like a pendulum as he searched their surroundings for any sign of his missing leg. Even if Sans felt any semblance of trust and ease on the inside, his bones still trembled with strain as he kept his hold around Grillby’s neck, fighting the urge to sleep.

Man, he could  _ really  _ do with a nap at the next resting point.

Sans idly mused that the search would’ve been difficult without Grillby, as the guy functioned much like a living light source. The fire reflected off the moist walls and rippled over the water’s surface, throwing tranquil reflections all around them in wavy flickers. Sans found it hypnotic in a way, his head lolling to one side as he briefly dozed, arms hanging limply over Grillby’s shoulders.

Grillby cast another sidelong glance to Sans’ face, pausing to fix his glasses so he could scan the area. They were approaching a bend in the corridor and the footing was becoming less sure. The piles of refuse were hard to look through at a single glance, and they’d need to pay attention to ensure that they didn’t overlook anything.

When he continued, Grillby noted the peculiar shudder that wracked the skeletal body against him and the slight movement against his back. The gentle tug at his jacket’s right lapel was the indication to look over. Sans’ grip slipped, but he gestured towards the corner. The subtle hollow knocking they’d been hearing since entering the corridor and the gurgle of a bony leg stuck in an eddy struck out over the fluid echoes of the cavern.

Upon seeing Sans’ missing leg, Grillby puffed out a breath of steam and smoke in relief.

As he approached it, the slippery rocks underfoot suddenly steepened and Grillby’s leg plunged into a deeper pool. He started, flames bouncing off his body in great licks as he backed away in panic as though stung.

He felt Sans stir against him, leaning forward slightly with his phalanges outreached towards his missing leg. It was a feeble attempt, one accentuated by an unfathomable fatigue as tiny coils of magic looped around Sans’ fingers. Grillby felt Sans adjust himself again, holding onto his left side as Sans gasped with effort by his face.

The stream of magic  _ missed. _

Grillby certainly hadn’t expected that.  _ “Perhaps you shouldn’t,”  _ he suggested cautiously, craning his head to see Sans’ face, locked in concentration.  _ “It appears that… you’ve expended a fair amount of magical energy throughout all this.” _

“i… really haven’t.” The skeleton’s tone was short and accusing as he tried once more. Sans swore as he demonstrated such a miraculous blunder for the second time in a row. Mentally, he berated his own weakness. “dammit. lemme down, i’ll just get it the old fashioned way.”

_ “I don’t believe that’s-”  _ Grillby grunted in surprise when Sans’ grip tugged him backward, the skeleton’s lightweight frame threatening to put him off balance with the slippery footing. But Grillby yielded, hunching down carefully to give Sans what he wanted.

It was a valiant effort on Sans’ part. He lasted all of five seconds upright before he fell straight onto his rear. He grimaced when Grillby offered a hand, all wounded pride when he accepted the gesture. Stabilising himself, he reached for his leg.

Reunited at last, Sans huffed in exertion as he was pulled back by his companion. He sat in the water while he inspected his leg for damage. Amusingly enough, the shoe was still on the foot and the laces were a tangled mess from their journey into the junkyard. Sans glowered at the stupid thing, finding no scrapes or nicks but a tangle of old fishing line wrapped all around and in between the parallel bones. It was going to take him forever to untangle it.

“thanks for helpin’ to put me back together,” he finally said, inspecting the head of the limb before attempting to detangle the mess. His movements were slow and it was difficult for Sans to keep upright with the running current.

A piteous look flashed through Grillby’s flames when he saw Sans struggle with the line, then he held out his hand again next to Sans’ head. When Sans looked up, his eye lights flickered; he truly did look exhausted.

Wounded pride or not, Grillby gestured for Sans to climb back up, noting the way his companion’s bones rattled softer now, as if the worrying tick was taking up precious energy reserves.

_ “…At least, until we reach another spot to rest,”  _ he offered kindly. A worried smile passed through Grillby’s flames before it disappeared again.

Quietly, as he had no other choice, Sans nodded, the effort unmatched as he resumed his place on Grillby’s back. Sans draped his arms over Grillby’s shoulders and fidgeted with the fishing wire with jerky, frustrated movements.

He was tired, he was humiliated, and he needed food to keep his energy levels up. Sans didn’t have the foresight to bring any food, shame on him, nor did the notion pass his mind. It was only supposed to be an easy walk through Waterfall. Nothing bad was supposed to happen. Sans idly wondered if the ketchup packets in his pockets had survived his plunge into the lake. Or if they’d be enough to sustain him. Somehow, he doubted it.

The corridor was long, thinning out to a single channel where the garbage from everywhere piled up into a huge mass atop of what looked like the only stairway leading  _ out, _ clogging the end of their path. Sans lifted his head when Grillby suddenly stopped, a quiet puzzled rasp drawing his gaze to their current predicament.

Something inside of Sans lurched uncomfortably and vertigo made his head throb when two and two were put together. “oh _fuckin’_ _hell.”_

_ “Sans, please,”  _ the fire monster chided softly, though he seemed distracted. Carefully, he manoeuvred around a large orange chest freezer that was overgrown with glowing whitecap mushrooms.

Sans slumped against him, letting the detached leg hang in front of Grillby like a grotesque marionette. He waited, just  _ knowing  _ and preparing his magic for what he’d have to do to get them untrapped. Sans’ left eye socket wisped with a cyan flare as he accumulated it within, life force coursing through his marrow. When Grillby’s head suddenly turned towards him, the lash of his fire was sudden enough to make Sans flinch.

_ “Don’t!” _

“what?” The question could’ve been construed as innocent, but Sans’ glowing eye dispelled with the fire monster’s warning anyway.

Grillby’s fire flickered in a peculiar way until he calmed down. His gaze left Sans’ face as he searched for some way to traverse the pile. Sans didn’t know what to think about Grillby’s outburst, but decided to carefully disperse the energy he had stored up back to his pinching soul. Idly, Sans wriggled his phalanges to put on a mock leg-puppet show.

_ “…Instruct me how to do it.” _

Sans arched a brow bone at that, his fingers coming to an abrupt stop. He lifted his jaw from the fire monster’s shoulder, his mind searching for an excuse -- any excuse.

When he couldn’t think of anything, he decided the answer was; “no?”

Grillby fixed him with another withering look and dead silence.

“it’s not that i don’t think you can, just…” When Sans shrugged it was more like a twitch, the effort enormous. Ah, the sacrifices he made to keep up the facade that he was stronger than he really was. “i just think it’s a bit convoluted to explain, is all.”

_ And pretty dangerous,  _ his thoughts added bitterly.

_ “Says the physics major.” _

“i resent that statement,” the skeleton responded archly. “‘sides, too much can go wrong if you don’t have starts and stops.”

_ “Then how does one start and stop?”  _ the fire monster drilled, still watching him.

Sans picked at the fishing wire thoughtfully, deliberately belabouring it in his head. “stress points, cracks, rifts, warps… in my old line of work, we studied ‘access lattice balance’. the world’s flow is basically a giant grid with about forty different spatial plains, especially in the underground. due to its instability, rifts pop up from time to time.”

_ “I believe I recall a condiment-fuelled tirade about quantum vortex exploits,”  _ the fire monster added thoughtfully, his tone amused. He hinted at a more relaxed and humoured state to diffuse Sans’ frustration.

Sans couldn’t help but turn a grin at Grillby, a small delight welling up in his soul that the fire monster had actually remembered. “oh yeah? well, then. it was some… secret something-or-other that we were doing at the core before the project was shut down. i’m sure i’ve rambled about it at some point or another before. it tied in with a certain kinda magnetism with magic. one can exploit the gridline -- uh, for lack of a better term -- to travel long distances in short periods, mostly instantaneous! these kinds of magnetotransport experiments were carried out by myself and some coworkers-”

Sans paused as though still debating it in his head. Grillby gave him a look, thrown off and confused. But then Sans continued;

“first of all, while you have to be able to  _ see  _ these stress points, you also must be able to interact with them on a quantum scale. bending the shape of the vortices’ lattice between the array points, which can get… tricky, since there’s so much you gotta keep track of on both sides, plus you or whoever else you want to tag along. normally, the magnetic permeability is a bit convoluted, but competing the unstable vortex configurations that appear lead to a more divergent shift, as they preclude transition. this behaviour emerges as the dynamics’ molecular structure shifts to accommodate a monster’s energy and physicality. the end behavioural result pushes ‘em through, uh, in a… i dunno.”

Sans paused his tangent again, this time as though searching for the correct term.

“blink.”

_ “…Blink?” _

“yeah. you’ve been… staring at me this whole time, grillbz.” He felt his soul make that odd pulse, like it had enough energy to taunt him and little else. Again, Sans couldn’t quite fathom Grillby’s expression, but his flames appeared paler and felt just a little warmer.

That was definitely new.

Grillby’s movements seemed to scream hesitation, his composure ruffled. Maybe Sans had laid on the techno-babble too hard; his goal had been to divert, not to make Grillby uncomfortable. Oops.

Carefully, he answered;  _ “I don’t think I can muster the clarity to follow your explanation this time, professor.” _

Sans exuded vague smugness regardless and he hunched his spine, picking at the tangled fishing line again and looping the tight knots over themselves to get rid of a larger chunk.

“sorry ‘bout the word boner,” Sans snickered wryly. Then his brow creased with a scowl, as he quickly became more exhausted and irritated with the line. Sans debated just reattaching it and having Alphys fix it up on their way through Hotland, but that was at least another few hours away, if he didn’t cheat.

Which, Sans realised, he  _ had  _ to. He had no other choice; not unless they found another monster lurking around that could help clear the debris -- which was probably less than likely. They hadn’t seen anyone since the star-watching room.

He felt Grillby adjust him, uneasily, as he was forced to watch the lithe bony digits move in front of him, then Sans gestured vaguely to their right. Grillby puffed out another jet of smoke as if in resignation.

_ “Can I do nothing to change your mind?” _

Sans ignored the fire monster’s question, but he didn’t quite feel like he had anything left to give after that last shortcut. Desperate, he pulled his right hand up and behind Grillby to search in his hoodie’s pockets, but as he’d suspected, there was nothing. He only pulled out withered marsh plants and small squiggly pieces of vines.

No ketchup packets, nothing to top him off. Sans glowered at his hand and dropped the vegetation with distaste, hoping that he wouldn’t find any surprises in his skull later. The chances were more likely that he would, though.

Sans decided that he would at least have to make it count. His soul’s magic was already drawn quite thin as he allowed his magic to manifest again. It pulsed like an ache in his head, running a river drier than the scorched earth near the CORE. There was a vague sort of crackle in the air, and then a shift in the world appeared like an awning gate. Grillby didn’t seem to detect it. Otherwise, he probably would’ve had more questions -- or turned his head to its direction, at the very least.

_ “Sans..?” _

Ignoring the inquiry, Sans reached over the fire monster’s shoulder and once more grabbed his gloved hand, pushing every bit of soul and magic he could muster into one last skip. He could always crash after, when they were safe and out of Waterfall.

“be quick through this one, boss-” Sans’ voice was more strained than before, barely a harsh whisper against Grillby’s flames. His magic wreathed around them both and Grillby tensed under him, ready to sprint at his command. “gonna be a doozy.”

Sans drew in a shuddering breath, his left eye socket flaring with the thrush of magic, sending wisps of cyan and yellow in a cascade of colour. He projected his all, clinging to Grillby as he barked out; “go!”

Then Grillby darted forward, keeping his grip steadfast.

He hadn’t jumped that far before.

It was almost the end of the biome. Sans figured they’d travelled maybe… a few kilometres or so, by his estimate.

Yeah, that sounded right.

A hum of passing conversations from days past surrounded them from the field of echo flowers they’d ended up in. They’d jumped straight past where Undyne’s house was, Blook Estates, the ferry stop, the hidden village of Tem. The mushroom caverns were behind them, the crystal marshes, even the twin waterfalls leading up to where they were now, sheltered in a small grassy bank.

Sans’ hold was loose. He couldn’t feel his fingers, his limbs as detached as his leg, tangled up around his hands. Sans’ body didn’t even have the energy to rattle anymore, slumped against Grillby’s back as his eye’s magic faded and ceased. Both sockets were hollow as he dragged in shallow breaths, flames catching in the subtle shift and his arms hung uselessly over Grillby’s shoulders.

He felt as though he was going to fall from Grillby’s back, he was so heavy.

Yeah, he’d definitely overdone it.

As if from far away, Sans heard a panicked voice and felt how his body moved. He was oddly detached from the world, his sight a blur as things faded in and out. He would’ve been amused if he wasn’t so damned tired. The way the fishing line actually prevented him from dropping his leg was pretty funny, after all.

Consciousness lapped at his mind like a settling pond. The more time that passed between seconds, the more the black spots bled into his awareness.

It looked like he’d get his wish for a nap, at least.

Flames entered his left socket, a slight blindingness that eventually went away. Sans made a fleeting educated guess as to how his companion was carrying him with a bite at his pride. Two arms enclosed around him, held against his back, pushing him against a warm body.

_ Warm. _

Footfalls thudded in a hurry, into the distance, small glimmers of ore dotting Sans’ sight before he gave up the ghost and closed his eyes. He thought he heard a sound, one that pinched at his soul, but he couldn’t give clarity to it. He could only trust in Grillby, yielding as everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~(should I tag this as dismemberment..? does that even count for skeles if they can put them back on??)~~


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby braves the rest of the walk to MTT Resort, and it's slowly dawning on Sans that he might have certain feelings. Secret stats tend to alarm.

If anyone asked, Grillby would always be referred to as a pretty chill guy, disregarding the fact that he was a being entirely consisting of fire. He never lost his temper, was respectful and polite. He had an aura around him that was strong, collected and accommodating. He could quell a worry with a whisper, stop self-consciousness in its tracks and leave one feeling like the world cared about them, even in their darkest moments. He was a difficult monster to uproot.

But now? He was explosive.

He had allowed panic to strike his soul like a shot when the skeleton against his back didn’t answer him. Sans had been barely holding on before, forcing himself. Grillby should’ve been more adamant on searching for an alternative exit. It wasn’t Sans’ duty to ensure that they escaped the dump.

Self-deprecating thoughts whirled around in his head as Grillby felt the magical pulse of energy Sans’ soul weakly resonated against him. It was his fault Sans was hurt. His fault for asking him.

He carefully turned to adjust his hold, noticing the way Sans’ body leaned off balance as he did so. Panicked, Grillby scrambled to regain purchase on Sans and nearly dropped him. There was not even the barest form of grip on his jacket anymore. No joke offered for his stumble. It made Grillby’s soul sink with creeping dread.

_“…Sans!?”_

It was too quiet, save for the echoes of his voice from the flowers around them. A sliver of fright slipped down to Grillby’s core as he stooped and carefully pulled Sans off his back, the skeleton’s limbs lax and heavy. He cradled Sans, his bright eyes searching, his soul racing as he held the skeleton in front of him, holding Sans’ shoulders to look at his face. His eye sockets were hollow, dark and empty, with not even a pinprick of light to signal consciousness. 

Gently, Grillby gave him a shake, stunned into silence.

He was entirely unresponsive.

 _You fool,_ Grillby thought angrily, both at Sans and himself. His gloved hand brushed at Sans’ temple, tracing a gentle curve around the right socket, his own magic attempting to kindle the eye, to wake him -- _anything._

He _had_ to hold on.

He had to find something to help Sans regain strength.

Grillby’s soul pinched with worry. He had to continue alone, on his own.

He manoeuvred Sans into his arms, cradling him against his chest as his flames whispered and whipped in barely suppressed agitation. Fog rose up from the wet grassy area, blinding in its thickness the longer Grillby hesitated. He doubled-checked, ensuring that Sans’ leg was still with them. It was unfortunately still tangled around Sans’ poor hand, but it was at least secure.

Grillby couldn’t help but feel a snakelike guilt coil at the centre of his being; it had been at _his_ invitation that Sans agreed to come along, after all -- even if Sans had previously offered. He struggled as his blaze darkened, self-criticising every selfish action he had just to be near Sans, anger and hurt that his poor decisions had led to Sans being hurt. He stalked through the environment to make his way through the rest of the wetlands, wavering between fear for his friend and disgust with himself.

There were a number of deep pools with no bridges from the grassy fields between them and the exit. Grillby hesitated, unable to gauge the depth nor reach of the pond ahead. He should’ve done it before, he agonised internally, biting the side of his mouth indecisively.

The flicker of his flames lowered to a dull, red glow and haze as he lowered his core temperature, every part of him shuddering with the lack of heat. It had to be this way, to lower it just enough so that it wouldn’t cause an instant-deadly underground vapour explosion when he stepped into harm’s way. The very core of his being shuddered at the suppression as his heart swelled with heat, writhing with building nuclear fusion.

Grillby knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold it for long. He couldn’t help the way he pressed Sans against his body, protectively, frightened for him as he moved unnervingly through the waist-high waters. As he did, waves and bubbles formed, his residual heat slowly boiling the water as he moved.

Overstrung, the fire monster pressed Sans against him while attempting not to tremble with effort through to the other side. He felt claustrophobic. Aquaphobic. He shook, making the bones in his arms rattle.

It was the most undesirable sensation he’d ever felt and it left Grillby feeling vulnerable and wholly unstable. Not only had he relied on Sans emotionally throughout Waterfall, Grillby felt responsible for what had happened.

The thoughts rushed through his head as he lifted Sans from his arms and onto the rock embankment. His movements were slow, not wanting to splash, but he could feel the lack of heat start to seep into his protective clothing. Quickly, Grillby hauled himself up and out of the water with an audible groan of relief, exhaling hotly like a spent kettle as his core’s temperature spiked when he hit the shale surface. The water shed from his efforts sizzled on the precipice, droplets dancing as if on a hot pan before shivering away from him.

He drew a few breaths to calm himself, waiting for his temperature to regulate again. Grillby’s soul was racing and he passed his hands through the flames of his head in an attempt to soothe his soul. He had to keep going. He had to push himself and get Sans to safety. Those thoughts spouted from him in a constant murmur, just under the hiss of protesting fire. He pulled his companion back into his arms and rose. The journey down the last corridor and over the weather-worn bridges would be all too quiet without Sans’ company.

He swallowed, a drop in his soul. He really detested going through Waterfall.

~

The next time Sans awoke, it was definitely Hotland. As he came back to consciousness, he heard a voice. Someone was in the middle of an argument, chastising words crackling and snapping in rasps of agitation that were only getting worse. He couldn’t make out the words through the blaze and gurgle of magma nearby, though. His spine creaked as Sans made an effort to lift his head when he suddenly stopped, a plunge of vertigo hitting him like a landslide.

His eye lights gradually focused on the ceiling far ahead. It stretched up for miles, the red heat of the lava below throwing long shadows along the cave walls. Sans eventually recognised the area, picking out one of his Hotland sentry stations close by. His grin tugged wearily when he attempted to sit up again.

The roar of the kindling voice abruptly stopped and he heard a shuffle come closer. Hands settled on his shoulders, a firm grasp that pushed heat into his already warm clothes.

“cool it,” he mumbled irritably as he tried to slap the hands away. The gesture was useless as he didn’t have much strength in him to begin with. All of Sans’ energy was reserved to keep himself in a half-upright position. “just… missed nap time.” He tried to push himself up further, arms strained and trembling.

_“Sans.”_

Oh, there he was. Grillby’s tone was warningly sharp and Sans noted the peculiar way his flames were arranged and coloured, albeit blearily. It was difficult to focus and Sans decided it was better to close one socket in a makeshift wink. Focusing one eye instead of both was much easier, even if it made him a little dizzy.

“h-heya.”

Sans looked inward, realising that the buffer he’d gained the previous night was entirely gone -- and then some. His magic felt thin and raw as though torn at the edges. He let out a soft wheezy chuckle despite his disposition.

Something was offered to his mouth. _“Drink!”_

“what..?”

He was supported by something, or Grillby, his phalanges wrapped around a container that smelled vaguely familiar and pleasing. Not his absolute favourite if he was honest, but Sans cautiously ingested the sea tea. He drew it in that peculiar way monsters without mouths could absorb sustenance, with a little help from whom he now realised was his travelling companion.

Once the tea was half-finished, Sans’ skull nodded forward. He tested the hand that supported his spine, finding it strong and soothing. Thankfully, the energy from the tea converted quickly enough to magic, which circulated throughout him, slowly replenishing. Sans let out a quiet hum of appreciation. That was better. Not great, but better.

Wearily, Sans looked to the fire monster’s face for the first time since he’d opened his eyes. He was very close, so much that the flames from Grillby’s body closed the gap between them and flooded Sans with a comfortable heat. They were so unlike Hotland’s scorched climate, soft and oddly protective. Awkwardly, Sans gave in to a soft laugh.

When he had found the energy to, he clutched the tea with both hands and consumed the rest, his soul reverberating in his bones with that peculiar lurch and inaudible sound.

Grillby seemed to relax a little more with Sans’ voluntary reaction and he breathed out a plume of smoke in relief. He then bent down to sit on the rock face in front of Sans, whose bones jittered like he was about to fall apart. It was concerning, but at the same time Grillby preferred it to the stark silence from before.

_“You’re rattling again.”_

“y.. yeah, we tend to do that.” It looked as though Sans had made a conscious effort to stop, however meagre the effort was. “sorry.”

Sans tried to suppress the surprised jolt that thundered through his soul when the fire monster’s hand slipped from his spine, only to stop at his shoulder. It was a comforting gesture, but at the same time it felt intense as Grillby’s face flickered, flames arranged into something distressed.

The two sat in silence as Grillby fixed him with that gaze, bright eyes burning behind his glasses, apparently mulling something over. As the quiet extended, Sans observed the tension in Grillby’s shoulders, his flames paler and hotter than he’d ever seen before. Grillby’s demeanour was actually so foreign to him that Sans didn’t know what to say -- or even if he should attempt to make a joke to ease the tension.

 _“Don’t,”_ Grillby finally said, his voice low and resonating. It was as though he was expecting the skeleton to make light of the situation. He squeezed Sans’ shoulder; not enough to worry, but to portray the emphatic regret that he felt. _“Don’t ever do that again.”_

Sans stared at him, the thread of guilt hooking into him as realisation dawned upon him. “…i’m fine, grillby,” he muttered after a pause, finding that he couldn’t meet Grillby’s burning eyes. It was probably the second time since he and his brother had moved to Snowdin that he’d ever used the fire monster’s actual name, a subtle hint at his resolve to placate Grillby’s apprehension.

Still, something else inside of him twisted with the fire monster’s concern. It was a fluttering little feeling that both grabbed at his soul with promise and possibility, but also with blame. Sans supposed he hadn’t taken into consideration just how Grillby felt, having passed out like that.

He definitely should’ve brought food or snacks. Sans lamented that internally as his fingers idly stroked the empty container of sea tea. At least his sentry station had leftovers from his last shift. That was his only saving grace.

 _“You’re impossible,”_ Grillby finally said after a prolonged silence.

Sans wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so he let it slide. A phantom ache tugged at him when Grillby released his shoulder and took the empty container to hide around the back of the station. Meanwhile, Sans took the time to concentrate on his tangled bones. He remarked on how the fire monster didn’t say anything more; Sans dwelt on it as his movements with the line clattered his bones together noisily.

He quickly became agitated, tugging irritably at the wire and hissing softly as the loops tightened around his fibula when Sans pulled too much. The bitter thought came to mind that if he could open his mouth, Sans could at least attempt to break the line with his teeth.

“remind me to never go swimmin’ with the fishes again.”

Even his tone showed signs of annoyance. Sans paused when he heard Grillby hum in sombre agreement, the sound of movement coming from the other side of his station.

“sorry. i don’t remember if i got any tools here-”

Sans listened as a few objects were listed off as Grillby rummaged through his stash: various empty condiment bottles, typha pods (for ‘dogs), a little bit of pocket change, and a bent fork. Sans gave up his struggle, leaning against the front panel of the station with a defeated sigh.

“hate to ask, but can you just… burn it off?”

Grillby peered over the top of the station, leaning over the edge. Sans looked up with the movement and his smile wavered at the fire monster’s pensive stature. The familiar sound echoed in Sans’ soul again like a low drum.

Sans found that he rather enjoyed the view and the way Grillby hung over the ledge with one gloved hand cupping his face, as though in consideration. Sans let out a nervous laugh, the sound cut short as he raised the tangled mess hanging from his trembling fingers, almost imploringly.

“i’d hate to _string_ you along, but i’m kinda _tied up_ at the moment.”

He watched as his joke made the fire monster chuckle in amusement, even if it was bad. However threadbare his magic was, it tickled against his ribs as Sans averted his gaze, not quite sure why he reacted that way. Sans quickly forced the feeling down again, his rib cage shaking with barely suppressed chuckles.

 _“…Would not want to cause you further harm, Sans,”_ Grillby replied as he moved from around the station, though he knelt down in front of him anyway.

“wh… no, you didn’t-” the skeleton all but stammered back, agitated again while Grillby ungloved a hand.

The fire against his form crackled free and sent glowing embers into the hot air. Had Sans possessed a stomach, it’d be doing nervous little flip flops as the bartender took his tangled hand by the carpals, searing away the synthetic wire with his other hand as if it was made of wax. It was as though each touch was deliberately slow and careful as the small lines melted under his ministrations and licked Sans’ bony digits.

It was captivating.

Sans found himself staring, unable to shake whatever feelings were coming over him. His soul was thrumming hard at the tender display, making him oddly nervous.

He had to make a joke.

It had to be quick.

He couldn’t entertain thoughts like these, he…

“d-doubt you’d hurt me.”

_Wrong thing, Sans!_

His mind vaulted the message almost at full volume in his head, horrified at the near-flirt, “er, muster the intent to harm, anyway.” Smooth.

One of his fingers twitched at the way the fire monster released him and Sans quickly disguised the reaction by clumsily rubbing his hands together, finally free. That was when Grillby pointed the heel of his footwear towards him, presenting a different problem.

Those _shoes._ A rotten thought formed in Sans’ head and he almost scowled at the proffered limb. While he would never blame his brother, Papyrus’ gift had over-complicated things. Much like his brother would likely do upon hearing the news of what had happened in Waterfall. Sans would have to make sure he tuned the story a bit if it was ever brought up -- to spare his brother from feeling at fault.

 _“Very true. Could you remove this? Would be a shame if it burned up.”_ The fire monster watched Sans’ movements with curiosity. Sans hoped that Grillby would chalk it up to him being so utterly spent as he did as was requested.

It certainly felt odd for the fire monster to be handling his bones in that way. Even though Grillby’s actions were reserved and quite professional, Sans couldn’t help the hot sensation that crept through his body at the sight of Grillby holding his leg while he removed the offending shoe and sock. Sans didn’t know what to make of the ridiculous thoughts that were assailing him, nor how desperate he felt. He was stupid for considering it, to ruin a great friendship in that way…

His soul resounded like a struck bell, ringing throughout him at an almost deafening level. Grillby carefully turned the limb in his grasp, scrutinising a few old marks in the ivory surface as the fishing line was burned away.

Sans concentrated very hard on not jumping at every brush, all the while feeling extremely embarrassed as the fire monster’s fingertips brushed against the cracked ankle bone. A shuddered exhale escaped him with the heat and his opposite leg hiked up slightly, shoe dragging in the red earth.

Grillby noted it, concern on his face as he also realised that Sans was averting his eye lights away from him. _“Pain?”_ Another twist of guilt came over the fire monster and he laid his palm over the injured bone.

Sans stammered to deny it, unable to find words for what felt like an eternity. No, it wasn’t because of _pain_ that he’d reacted that way, Sans quickly realised. He sat tensely, trying to find a good excuse.

Clumsily, he settled on muttering, “i.. i just slipped a couple days ago.”

The fire monster leaned forward, catching Sans off guard. Grillby was much closer now and Sans was starting to panic, his eye lights flicking to his eyes, then to the centre of his face. It allowed Grillby to see just how unsure Sans was, the complexity betrayed in Sans’ eyes so profound that Grillby knew that wasn’t right.

_“You never slip, Sans.”_

“s-sure i do, it’s not a big deal. it always hap-”

 _It was that strange universal constant._ Sans realised it too late and now he’d gone and made Grillby worried. Dread clung to the inside of his ribs and Sans had to prevent himself from clutching at his chest to rub away the feeling.

Patiently, Grillby watched as Sans stubbornly waved away the injury, firmly believing the excuse to be false. Time and time again, no matter the skeleton’s sobriety, Sans would leave his bar and Grillby would watch Sans leave until he was out of view. It was only just down the street, but he wondered after Sans, and wanted for him to be safe.

Every time, Grillby would watch and he’d never seen Sans slip, fall or trip before; Grillby couldn’t help but wonder why Sans was hiding the true reason behind the injury. Embarrassment? No… Perhaps something else. Then again, Grillby had failed to watch after him after his previous melancholy visit. It nagged at the fire monster’s resolve and he decided rather pointedly that he would heal the crack. It was the least he could do.

“grillbz, you don’t gotta do tha-- _hah!”_

The skeleton’s shoulders raised as he felt the peculiar tingle ebb from Grillby’s hands and into bone, the hairline of exposed marrow signalling prickles up his leg and jumping across the phantom connection to his body.

Although it wasn’t necessarily an unwelcome gesture, Sans had been caught off guard again and he found himself pressing his spine against the front of the station with a stuttered gasp. He was only used to Papyrus healing him, and Grillby’s heat was all-encompassing.

It was only a small injury, but it was healed in no time. The gentle flow of Grillby’s magic welled up in the scarred bone like a glowing white cast, making the marrow just underneath throb. Sans sucked in a slow breath to calm himself, finding that his own magic had curled up defensively. Grillby’s bright eyes settled on him suspiciously, holding his limb out for him to take.

Dumbly, Sans outreached his trembling hand, meaning to introduce the head of the bone to his vacant knee’s socket. He knew he was weak, but Sans thought he would’ve at least _something_ to spare to affix it. Sans’ eye lights flicked down as he attempted the connection again, his magic feeling both frayed and paper-thin as it uselessly coiled at the joint.

It didn’t work.

His soul sank with that fact.

He chalked it up to being stretched thin enough already. Sans would’ve loved to walk on his own, had he the energy. Stubbornly, Sans tried a third time, this time flinching when something inside of him sputtered painfully in protest. A dizzy spell came over him and he hunched his shoulders with a quiet hum of resignation.

 _“We can rest at the resort,”_ Grillby decided, having watched Sans with growing bemusement. _“Don’t force yourself.”_

That only made Sans feel worse. He tugged the sock and shoe back onto his foot in silence, shame coiling around his soul like a snake. Being useless wasn’t something Sans felt unaccustomed to, but becoming a burden when he was supposed to be _helping_ was another trial altogether.

Without another word, Grillby stood and patted the red dirt from his trousers. He helped Sans climb onto his back again and Sans kept his limb in hand, his thin finger bones just small enough to fit through the space between the parallel bones. He found that he was still struggling to keep focus, but he still noticed the way the fire monster’s pace seemed hurried now as they made their way north to the elevator.

While Grillby waited for the long ride to ascend to the second level, the skeleton’s tension on his back had eased somewhat. Grillby turned his head and listened. The only noise that broke the silence was the soft crackling of his flames and the small breaths taken by his companion. Sans’ eyes were closed and he seemed almost… peaceful.

Nonetheless, Grillby was still concerned. It was still a long walk between the quarry pits, and that was with hope that no one had activated any puzzles along the way. As a fire monster, Grillby knew shortcuts of his own through them, but they were nowhere near as drastic as Sans’. Essentially, he knew which maintenance levers to trip and he’d use that to his advantage throughout the next area if need be.

Grillby kept to himself but formally nodded to the people he passed on the way through, not normally one for idle chit chat. That is, unless it was Sans, who could carry a conversation for the both of them more than half the time.

It struck Grillby that he’d been more open with Sans lately, not at all resorting to vague gestures or using body language to aid their talks. Perhaps it was because he’d charged himself with the responsibility to carry him more than half the way? Or simply, maybe it was that Sans made him more comfortable in general…?

It was a lengthy walk to the other side of the quarry. It took the better part of two hours to reach the easternmost elevator tower through the winding conveyor platforms. The hike had been long, and Grillby was desperate for a moment of reprieve.

The fire monster stopped to rest at another empty sentry station and sat down, positioning Sans in his lap, who remained in deep slumber. Grillby had checked briefly before doing so; this station didn’t have anything to consume, either. It appeared he’d have to wait until they arrived at the resort to get some proper food. He was starting to feel fatigued and hungry, too.

The fact that Sans wasn’t disturbed while Grillby carried him all this time was worrying, to say the least. Grillby paused for a moment, and although normally courteous to others’ boundaries, he wanted to ensure the skeleton was actually alright.

It was a horrible breach of privacy… but he _had_ to make sure. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Sans was on the verge of Falling Down.

> **[ * SANS 1 ATK 1 DEF** **  
> ***** not dead, just bone-tired. ]**

Grillby sighed in near-exasperation at the internal joke and lowered his head, focusing to see further.

> **[ * 0.7 HP ]**

Grillby’s head snapped up like a shot; suddenly his soul was thrumming hard in alarm. It was worse than he’d thought. Grillby’s body flooded with tension, flames heightening and flickering madly. His fires plumed pale with dread as he pushed Sans against his chest to brace himself and Grillby lurched to his feet.

He didn’t have _time_ to rest. He had to continue. He had to find help, food, shelter -- _anyone!_

Grillby darted towards the elevator shaft, his breaths rasping, crackling and loud. He jammed his finger at the button mercilessly, as though it’d make the elevator descend faster.

His thoughts screamed; Falling Down, _all your fault,_ he trusted you, _hold on!_

The doors stuttered open and he dashed inside, pushing the button to go up to the third level of the quarry with more force than was probably necessary. He didn’t care. All that mattered to Grillby was getting Sans to help, panic welling up inside of him, just waiting to explode in an emotional heat.

Grillby’s mind was a blur all throughout the ride upward until the elevator stopped. Even the doors took too long to open and Grillby impatiently sidestepped through them, rounding the corner. He didn’t even acknowledge the Royal Guards posted within stone’s throw of the resort, who gave him a second look when he passed.

He had to get Sans to safety-

He had to tell Papyrus. To ask what he could do-

He-

This was all wrong. He _had to save him-_

The fire monster repeated the train of thought over and over like a mantra. It was the only thing that prevented Grillby from falling into an outright inconsolable state when he entered the double glass doors. The promise of _safety_ flooded his core and it took everything for him not to bring attention to Sans.

Sans, who was Falling Down-

If he could get him to safety, he could heal him. He’d dropped out of medical school, but… he could try.

He stalked to the front desk as if on automatic and adjusted Sans in his arms to remove some coins from his pockets. Then Grillby slid them across the counter to the receptionist without a word; he didn’t trust himself to say anything.

Wordlessly, Grillby took the room key provided and left the desk after reading the number on it -- past the fountain and down the hall. Others around him had stopped their amicable chatter to watch, but Grillby tuned it all out. All that mattered was getting to the room, entering, and locking it behind him. He managed with some difficulty.

Inside of him, Grillby’s soul shrouded with guilt and responsibility, so much that for a moment he could barely move. With Sans’ body pressed against him, he leaned against the door to gather his bearings before his bright eyes studiously flicked about the room. He took an inventory; a large bed, a table, some lights and a chair beside the desk with a phone on it.

He exhaled, smoke trailing behind him in a wisp as he carried forward to carefully rest Sans on the bed’s plush surface. He checked Sans over once more, to make sure there was no damage to his handling. Then he checked Sans’ severed limb to ensure there were no cracks or breakage before placing it next to him.

Suddenly his jovial friend seemed much more fragile than he’d ever seen him before.

It took him several moments before Grillby was calm enough to pull the chair away from the desk and sit down, staring at his friend. He looked peaceful enough. Was he really only just sleeping? But he’d Fallen Down… It was a deep sleep, one that Grillby wasn’t sure about. On edge and barely keeping himself together, Grillby pulled the chair closer so he was right against the mattress.

He would have to give an attempt at healing Sans. If he couldn’t, he’d call for someone else to and deal with it then. As his magic flowed through him and gathered in his hands, Grillby pulled off his gloves again and tossed them to the side without care. He scanned the skeleton once more, Grillby’s hands hesitantly shaking just above Sans’ breastbone before he drew in a breath and rested both palm down.

The soothing energy flowed downward into Sans’ bones and intermingled with his own magic, which Grillby now recognised as a decent level lower than his own. It appeared to accept his readily enough, as though painfully yearning, starving. He could detect a hint of something charred, but it disappeared the longer he pushed magic into Sans’ rib cage.

Minutes passed in effort and Grillby was beginning to feel like it was taking too long. He attempted another cursory scan.

> **[ * 0.8 HP ]**

Even though Grillby was trying his best, his own magic struggled to help Sans, having only healed him a bare fraction.

It wasn’t right, though; it shouldn’t have been this difficult. Grillby was nowhere near his maximum limit, but maybe… it was because Sans really _had_ Fallen Down. By his estimation, Sans should’ve had much more hope than this. But the struggle to direct Sans back into the positives was great, almost draining him to the point that he thought perhaps Sans _had_ given up.

That it was too late… and any attempt to pull Sans Up again was a wasted effort.

Grillby’s soul wrenched at the thought, a threat of hot prickling behind his eyes. No, he _had_ to continue! His brow furrowed in concentration, Grillby’s chest rising and falling in quiet but deep rhythm as he forced his magic to heal.

Twenty minutes passed. The time spent healing Sans was taking its toll when it really shouldn’t have.

Yet, he persisted.

> **[ * 1 HP ]**

He forced himself, but Grillby couldn’t do it anymore. Whether he was worn out from the journey or wasn’t strong enough to pull Sans Up, Grillby just stopped. His shoulders drooped noticeably and he hung his head in his hands, silently lamenting his ineptitude. His body was beginning to shake as a thought came crashing down on him, agony crushing his heart and soul.

Sans had Fallen Down because of _him._

The fire monster turned towards the desk to dial out. The large receiver felt as heavy as lead. He dialled the same sequence he would punch in night after night to tell Papyrus to get his brother from the bar when it had gotten too late, the rotary clicking with each dreaded number.

Grillby paused at the last digit, noticing that his hands were trembling uncontrollably.

What would he say…?

Plunging ahead, Grillby punched in the last number, his breath shuddering with a suffering he’d never felt in his entire existence. He blinked back the feeling of tears, mentally preparing himself to admit his fault to his friend’s family.

It only took a couple of rings for Papyrus to pick up and for a shockingly still moment, Grillby froze. 

The words stuck in his throat.

_How could he even begin…?_

_“Papyrus…?”_

Papyrus’ jovial greeting blared through the phone and Grillby reached over to turn down the volume. It gave him a few precious moments to go over his thoughts. He struggled with them, trying to keep himself from just apologising over and over.

“WOWIE! IS THAT YOU, MISTER GRILLBY? I HOPE MY LAZYBONES OF A BROTHER ISN’T HOLDING YOU UP!”

Grillby’s gaze lifted from the phone to Sans on the bed, who hadn’t moved an inch from where he put him. His soul twisted again, painfully, as he searched for the right words to delicately break the news to Papyrus.

_“……No, he’s resting. We’re at MTT Resort, for the moment, er…”_

“THAT-! I SWEAR HE’LL FALL ASLEEP JUST ABOUT ANYWHERE!”

Grillby idly stoked the side of his face, recalling what Sans had warned him of when they began their journey.

_‘don’t tell paps, eh?’_

_“…He won’t wake up,”_ Grillby offered carefully, nervously tapping the edge of his chair as his flames flickered in the same manner. He was relieved that his voice didn’t crack -- no more than usual, his flames covering up his distress as best as they could. He listened to the other side and stared at his boots, waiting for the accusation.

“OH! WELL. SANS IS A DEEP SLEEPER. IT’S ABOUT THE ONLY THING HE’S COMMITTED TO, REALLY…”

The way Papyrus replied made guilt broil inside and Grillby was beginning to know less about how to tactfully broach the subject. He stayed quiet, the dead air a painful experience to listen to and participate in.

“IS… IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT? YOU’VE BEEN QUIET -- EVEN FOR YOU!”

 _“We were… trapped in the depths of Waterfall, and he… used a fair amount of magic to get us to safety,”_ he explained carefully; vague enough to not reveal particulars, but enough that he wasn’t lying. His voice broke enough that Grillby could feel it crumble in his chest like dust; _“I can’t heal him, Papyrus.”_

“OH MY GOD!!” boomed from the receiver and Grillby nearly jerked it away from his face; “I SPECIFICALLY INSTRUCTED HIM _NOT_ TO! HOW LOW IS HE??”

Grillby drew in a shuddering breath and lifted his gaze to Sans to scan him again; there was still no change.

_“One.”_

A pause.

Then a quiet, albeit hysterical, laugh. Did Grillby detect a tone of… _relief?_

Was… that right?

Anger and confusion suddenly flared within his core and Grillby leaned forward, trying to figure out the joke when he heard Papyrus laugh.

“OH! NO… DON’T WORRY ABOUT THAT.”

 _“……Seem to misunderstand-”_ the fire monster hissed through the line, his free hand forming a tight fist. _“He’s… only at ‘one’! Other monsters… would have Fallen at this point, I… I can’t heal him, I-”_

Papyrus’ good-natured chuckle cut him off and he seemed unworried, confusing Grillby further. His tone was softer when Papyrus next spoke, as though the jig was finally up; “YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO HEAL HIM PAST THAT. ONE’S ALL HE’S GOT. IT’S BEEN-… I MEAN, HE’S A BIT OF A WEIRDO THAT WAY.” There was something in his response that indicated that wasn’t all there was to it, though.

Stunned, Grillby remained silent. He stared at his companion on the bed, at how peaceful he looked. Had he… really panicked that much? Had he known Sans for all this time and he didn’t have the slightest clue of his friend’s limits?

“HE’S NAPPING NOW, ISN’T HE,” Papyrus asked primly, as though displeased with the notion. “ARE HIS ORBITS CLOSED, OR OPEN?”

_“…Orbits?”_

“HIS EYE SOCKETS. EYES.”

Grillby inspected Sans’ face with gentle recognition, a tentative hope kindling in his soul.

 _“…Closed,”_ he finally reported. He heard the insurmountable sound of a relieved sigh from the other end of the line and it seemed to melt all the tension out of Grillby’s body, like a signal that it was safe to breathe. That Sans was more fine than he’d originally thought.

“OH GOOD! HE’S JUST BEING LAZY, THEN. IF HIS ORBITS WERE OPEN BUT HOLLOW, THEN WE’D HAVE CAUSE FOR WORRY!” The younger brother chuckled again, wholeheartedly. Grillby realised this _had_ happened earlier and felt himself shrink down, flames darkening, low and shuddering. “BEST TO LET HIM REST, I SUPPOSE. HE WON’T OBJECT TO ANY FOOD YOU BRING HIM WHEN HE WAKES UP!! THE SOONER, THE BETTER!”

Grillby smiled softly despite his lingering worry. He felt exhausted after everything that had happened and was relieved for the assurance. He rubbed at the side of his face.

 _“I overreacted,”_ he murmured, his tone soft and apologetic.

“NYEH! BETTER TO ASK THAN NOT AT ALL. JUST, ER… DON’T TELL SANS I TOLD YOU ABOUT HIS, ERR…”

This was beginning to sound familiar, the fire monster realised. He nodded to himself before flitting his gaze back to Sans’ face.

 _“…Naturally._ ” After a pause, he exhaled a low sigh. _“How to wake him…?”_

“EASY!” Grillby grimaced and pulled the receiver away from his face, then a little closer with caution as Papyrus lowered his voice again. “PUT YOUR HAND ON HIS CERVICAL VERTEBRAE-”

Grillby paused, eyeing the skeleton on the bed. He was unsure, not parsed in the literal terms for skeletal anatomy. He felt hotter for the implications, as well -- touching any unknown part of Sans, well… His flames kindled a little brighter with the mere thought.

“NOT THE LUMBAR DISCS; THOSE WILL MAKE HIM JUMP. THORACIC… WELL, HE TENDS TO NAP EVEN MORE!” There was an irritating bite to Papyrus’ tone and Grillby was admittedly bewildered with all the terms being thrown around.

_“Cervical is… lower spine?”_

Grillby had his hand poised for a long time, it seemed, and he was beginning to feel self-conscious for it. Even if Sans _was_ in a deep sleep, Grillby wasn’t quite sure how he’d be able to explain it if Sans chose that exact moment to wake up.

 _“NO!_ THE ONES UNDER HIS SKULL!!” Papyrus seemed irritated by the blunder and Grillby immediately felt a rush of embarrassment creep up to his face.

Another long silence drew on and Grillby relaxed a little. Then Papyrus added in a hushed voice with a sigh; “THANK YOU FOR TAKING CARE OF SANS. HE HASN’T REALLY… BEEN HIMSELF, LATELY. BUT! I REALLY DO BELIEVE HE ENJOYS BEING WITH YOU!”

The fire monster couldn’t help but smile at that sentiment, since Sans’ visits to his establishment had been far more frequent than before. A warm feeling concentrated at the centre of his being and Grillby turned his head toward Sans on the bed, who still snoozed away his troubles, unaware.

Lucky.

_“……I enjoy his company as well.”_

“YOU SOUND UTTERLY EXHAUSTED! SO! I DO BELIEVE OUR CONVERSATION HAS REACHED ITS CLOSURE,” Papyrus boomed suddenly, and Grillby released a soft laugh, another released tension flooding out of him. “GOODBYE!”

Ever-enthusiastic, Papyrus hung up first and the fire monster gently settled the phone back onto the hook. Exhausted after everything that had happened, Grillby got up to remove his boots and jacket, deciding to turn the chair around. He sat on it again, using the back of the chair as a rest to put his arms and head up for support. That way he’d be able to watch for any adverse signs of recovery. Regardless of what Papyrus had said, Grillby was still worried.

Eventually, since he had expended a lot of energy, Grillby would fall asleep like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took inspiration for Sans' flavour text from a fan art ~~I can't locate anymore~~ of lil man sleeping that said ["not dead, just tired and ugly"](http://bedsafely.tumblr.com/post/160219208147/still-producing-the-quality-content-over-at).
> 
> [thefloatingstone](https://thefloatingstone.tumblr.com/) on tumblr has made some FABULOUS art for this chapter [here! Click here for the panicky Grillby!!! It's AMAZING!!!!!](http://skerbaderbadoo.tumblr.com/post/176281595102)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare sequences. Sans is finally whole. The two of them finally are able to walk on their own to New Home. An uneasy encounter in the CORE leaves Sans with a lingering malaise.

Grillby found that he didn’t sleep for very long. His dreams had coalesced into some form of horrifying amalgamate that he’d wake to find his dear friend just a pile of clothes and dust. That Papyrus’ gentle reassurance would turn into unfathomable grief and withdrawal from his usual peppy self. That every monster in Snowdin would look to him for answers as to why the shining beacon of their town was now gone forever.

But most importantly, every night normally spent in Sans’ company would be a distant memory. Grillby wouldn’t hear his voice, wouldn’t be able to chide his jokes, listen to his laughter… The one person he looked forward to visiting him day in and day out would suddenly vanish. It’d be an extreme loss of light in Grillby’s life and it’d leave an immeasurable black hole in its wake.

His dreams focused on that torment, shifting his perceptive reality into a twisted nightmare through different scenarios. Every time he started awake, Grillby looked to Sans on the bed for reassurance. Then he would drift off again into the same kinds of dreams. Every end action was the same, and every action led to the dusting of his dear friend in wholly new and horrendous ways.

The very core of his being shuddered when he opened his eyes one final time, and for a startling moment Grillby thought Sans  _ had. _ It took a heart-stopping moment before he realised that his glasses had merely fallen off his face and onto the floor. Mercifully, Sans still slept, though he’d turned at some point so they faced each other.

Grillby stooped over to retrieve his glasses and wiped them on his sleeve before restoring them to their former glory. He took a moment to look at the skeleton sleeping somewhat fretfully on the bed. A fiery brow arched as he watched. Sans’ phalanges had curled under him and he was bunched inwards on his side, as though doubled in pain. His entire body was tense and trembling, and with it the soft noise of bones scraped against each other as Sans’ arms shifted in his troubled rest. It looked like Sans subconsciously attempted to look smaller, moving to encircle himself.

Small, barely audible and unintelligible noises passed his teeth alongside quick shallow breaths. His magic curled defensively and erratically, streaming from one of his eye sockets. Sympathetic, Grillby leaned forward to touch Sans’ shoulder, knowing this was likely one of Sans’ ‘bad nights’. He hated to see him like this, so he attempted a light shake to snap him out of it.

It didn’t do any good; it only made a heart-wrenching noise escape Sans, a soft sob that threaded Grillby’s soul with distress and resound with pity.

_ “Sans,” _ he called, then got off the chair to kneel next to the bed as the skeleton whimpered, trapped in his nightmare.  _ “Wake up. You’re alright.” _

Grillby attempted to shake Sans again, only to be met with a pathetic cry. He noticed the way Sans clutched at his breastbone, a desperate action that clawed and shook Sans where he lay.

“p..papyrus, no-” the skeleton pleaded helplessly. His voice sounded strangled and Sans suddenly jerked, his fingers searching for something in front of him, anguished. “no… no, don’t… don’t go, don’t…”

Grillby attempted another shake to rouse his friend.

_ “Sans!” _

“don’t leave -- don’t… no, you  _ can’t- _ ” Half-formed bone constructs started to splinter into existence around him, forming a clumsy makeshift cage. Grillby started, eyeing each one warily.

_ “Sans, wake up!” _ the fire monster’s voice rose, flames crackling noisily at Sans’ distress.

He outreached his hand to the vertebrae at Sans’ neck, attempting what Papyrus had advised in hopes of waking him. Grillby’s heat fluttered at the joints and Sans’ body tensed in response. The conjured bone constructs evaporated into the air as his eyes snapped open, the lights inside small pinpricks highlighted with fear, one burning alive with a wisp of cyan.

Sans held his breath for a moment before covering his skull with his arms, then he let out a harsh exhale. Unable to keep his body from trembling, he swore. The fire monster didn’t admonish him for it; he only rested his hand against Sans’ nape and waited for him to calm down.

_ “Relax, friend. You’re safe,” _ the bartender offered gently, watching as Sans attempted deep breaths; each one was punctuated with a shudder.

For once, the silence between them was uneasy. As Sans eventually settled, Grillby speculated that Sans had to be worried over his brother’s wellbeing, hence the nightmare. He supposed it was only natural, after all; the two were nigh inseparable in all the time he’d known them. He moved his fingers against the skeleton’s cervical vertebrae in an attempt to soothe him, until Sans unbundled himself to look at him, rumpled and sheepish.

“paps does that,” he mumbled ruefully and dropped his gaze. “since we were small.”

_ “He’s safe, too,” _ Grillby consoled, removing his hand but letting it linger at Sans’ shoulder, where he softly gave it a pat.  _ “One of your terrors, I assume?” _

Sans rolled onto his back away from the gesture and inhaled deeply, idly rubbing at his sternum through his shirt. “…a recurring one, yeah,” he murmured in agreement after a moment of reflection.

Grillby didn’t verbally offer to listen; his demeanour did it for him. Sans cast a sidelong glance to him, an awkward tightness forming behind his rib cage when his mind replayed the nightmare like a skipping disc.

“i don’t… really wanna talk about it.”

_ “Perhaps another time, then,” _ the fire monster replied and sat down again, putting his arms up on the back of the chair.  _ “How are you feeling?” _

Sans looked inward, an obscure yet bemused expression on his face as though the result surprised him. Was he healed? He had to admit, the first bit of sleep had been rough, but he hadn’t expected such results from just a  _ nap _ . Yet, there he was with his singular HP, which was more than he could ever hope for. Inquisitively, he looked at his friend.

Grillby looked worse for wear; his flames were low, auburn and languidly wisped into a wave of heat than actual flame. The innermost core of his head was deep orange and subdued. His normally bright eyes looked more dimly cast, allowing Sans to pinpoint the fine line between his sclera and face.

“how’re  _ you _ feeling?” the skeleton shot back. He propped himself up onto his elbows, finding that he actually had much more strength than before.

Grillby gave him a weary smirk.  _ “Been better.” _

“you look like shit, is what,” Sans muttered with a frown, unable to quell the guilt that writhed inside. He ignored the way the fire monster bristled almost defensively and Sans narrowed his eyes at him. “did you  _ heal _ me?”

When Grillby didn’t answer, Sans exhaled a deep sigh through his nasal cavity and stared up at the ceiling, searching it for answers. A worry nagged at him, but Sans refused to acknowledge it. Hopefully, he thought, Grillby didn’t pry. It wasn’t like he did any other time before, but Sans felt a well of anxiousness spring up with the thought.

“how embarrassing.”

Something inside of him fluttered with the notion, though, and he irritably knocked against his chest. Sans chided himself in the privacy of his thoughts in self-reprimand.

_ “I was… worried,” _ Grillby objected cautiously, resting his head on his arms with the barest of shrugs.

Sans was astonished, but it was a nice feeling. He turned to face Grillby again, unable to place the look on his visage. Sans idly wondered if the fire monster did that intentionally to mask what he was thinking.

He hadn’t felt that anyone else had worried too much about him in the past -- save for only his brother, who fretted over his health to the point of aggravation. Sans wasn’t sure if the gratitude he felt was for the fire monster’s concern or simply because it felt like… Grillby actually  _ cared _ .

Sans’ smile was a little easier with that thought. It was endearing, somehow. His soul took that feeling as a sign to surge inside of him, filling his bones with a now familiar and tender warmth. Distractedly, Sans pushed his phalanges against the spot on his spine where Grillby had touched, bones clattering together as he idly rubbed it. Before he could dwell too much on it, Sans decided to push himself upright.

It took him a moment, but he finally got his bearings enough to shuffle to the side of the bed, in search of his leg. It had fallen off the side in his troubled sleep and Sans awkwardly reached for it, hoping he had replenished enough energy to affix it. If the ticking clock on the wall was correct, it’d been a solid ten hours since they’d left Snowdin.

“we’re not late to get your order, are we?” Sans inquired and pulled himself back up to sit on the edge of the bed, inspecting the limb. “i didn’t mean to delay you, grillbz.”

Grillby only hummed softly, exhaustion in his voice. Then offered with a soft chuckle,  _ “De-leg?” _ He was a little surprised that Sans hadn’t paid attention to his attempt at a joke, but he seemed distracted.  _ “We aren’t… and you didn’t, friend. Would have stopped here regardless. Your shortcuts have… actually put us a little earlier than scheduled.” _

Sans stopped fumbling with his leg for a moment and glanced at Grillby. It looked as though Sans was about to say something but then thought better of it, returning his focus to his limb. Grillby watched in relieved silence as the joint latched and snapped back into place. Giving the knee a few testing bends, Sans shuffled off the side of the bed.

“why don’t you take the bed, big g. i’ll grab us some grub,” the skeleton offered, who still looked distracted as he shifted his leg in place. The clicking noises of the joint settling filled the air, much to Grillby’s sympathies.

While Sans hadn’t entirely recovered, the sea tea from before and the short rest had done him some good, nightmare aside. The joint’s magic was holding and his weight was supported. It was all he could’ve asked for, really.

He’d intended to leave to get some burgers or whatever food the resort offered. He turned away but didn’t get very far with Grillby’s hand grasping the sleeve of his jacket. Inquisitively, Sans turned back to the fire monster, his soul thumping hard.

He watched in dumbed silence as Grillby took his phalanges with one hand and pulled him closer for a moment. Fire licked through his carpals as Grillby’s other hand folded something onto them. The bare scrape of heated metal brushed against him and Sans felt a particular welling spring up inside of him along with dawning embarrassment.

He hadn’t brought any money with him.

_ “My treat, Sans. A starfait for me… if they have any left at this hour?” _

Sans gulped quietly, pulling his hand away from Grillby to clutch the glinting coins. He stood in a moment of barely suppressed unease before he murmured, “oh. yeah. sure thing, boss.”

Nice.

Sans then awkwardly left the room. His kneecap clicked faintly as he strolled down the hall, looking inwardly to his HP and the deep-rooted fear that was buried there. He’d been healed -- so did that mean Grillby had learned of it? Learned about what he was? What he  _ wasn’t? _ Grillby didn’t indicate that he did, and yet… Sans was bothered by it. It was one of his attributes that he would have rather kept to himself and his brother -- no one else. But Grillby didn’t seem to treat him any differently, so Sans kept his worries to himself.

The thought of his brother stopped Sans in his tracks, not too far from the fountain. His shoes skidded on the clean linoleum tiles and his grin dropped.

That nightmare had been intense, to say the least. Hell, he had conjured attacks in his  _ sleep _ it’d been so bad. But… it was a recurring terror that insisted on pursuing his sleeping consciousness. Of Papyrus, confronting a creature that came from the Ruins while Sans warned everyone in Snowdin to flee.

And when he had returned after realising that Papyrus hadn’t escaped, what Sans found… All that  _ was _ left was…

Trapped in thought, Sans rubbed at the back of his neck, faint clicking echoing in his head as he felt the gentle warmth that lingered after his friend’s touch. He had to call his brother, time of night be damned.

He went to the front desk to the handy receptionist there, flashing a grin at them. “mind if i make a short call?” he drawled as he leaned against the counter, all ridiculous flirts that no one could refuse. Courteously -- although with a bit of a full-bodied shudder -- the hand monster pulled a phone from under the counter and set it beside their reservation book with a silent, accommodating gesture. “thanks.”

A little quicker than he’d intended to, Sans punched his brother’s cell number into the phone and waited, idly tapping his foot. When the other side picked up, his soul did a relieved flip and Sans sighed when his brother groggily greeted him.

“heya, pap,” he mumbled into the phone; at the same time, Sans attempted to sound cheery. “guess where i am.”

His brother groaned loudly. “ALLOW ME TO GUESS… IS IT A DIMENSION WHEREIN IT’S NOT AN UNACCEPTABLE HOUR TO BE MAKING PHONE CALLS?”

Sans shifted in place, glancing at the time on the ticking clock on the wall. 11:54pm. Oops.

“oh. well… no, i, uh. just… wanted to see how you were doin’,” he offered warily and cringed at the not-so-subtle way his voice betrayed his unease. At any rate, it was good to hear his brother’s voice, especially after such a soul-shattering nightmare.

Silence came from the other end, then a soft sigh of resignation. “YOUR NIGHTMARES ARE BECOMING ALL TOO FREQUENT LATELY, BROTHER.” Papyrus’ tone softened but he wasn’t admonishing, at least. Sans absently nodded in agreement, even though Papyrus couldn’t see it.

“just needed to hear your voice. sorry i called so late, pap.”

“SANS, REALLY… I’M WORRIED. ARE YOU ALRIGHT? GRILLBY CALLED EARLIER!”

Sans’ eyes widened slightly and his grip on the receiver tightened. “He…?”

He stopped, feeling a pang of regret. Of slight panic -- of ‘what if?’ hanging in his head like a dark curtain. Then it rebooted to save Papyrus from worrying about him, so Sans did what he did best and deflected. “oh. yeah, i’m good. don’t worry. i was just tired, you know me… heh.”

There was a scrutinising pause and Sans restlessly shuffled in place, eye lights settling on the hand monster before turning away from them in embarrassment. He knew his brother was in all likelihood glaring at the phone, tapping his foot, just  _ waiting _ for an explanation.

“eh, we just got stuck, is all. and i unstuck us. so, it’s good.  _ i’m  _ good. just gettin’ some grub, so i better get going. can’t dela-”

He stopped dead and smacked his brow with one hand, sending a loud  _ clack _ through the receiver. He’d  _ just  _ registered the pun from earlier and he was shaking, holding back a sudden explosion of laughter.

“SANS? WHAT WAS THAT!” was Papyrus’ stricken demand.

“grillbz made a pun and i just now got it.”

An exasperated sigh echoed through the receiver alongside the prolonged fuzz of static, resulting in a doubling of Sans’ wheezing laughter.

“GOODNIGHT, BROTHER.”

“g’night, broski.”

Sans let his chuckles die off as he returned the receiver to the hook and shrugged to the receptionist before turning away. Oddly enough, he couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed by his brother; although if not betrayal, then perhaps a needling paranoia. What had Papyrus said to Grillby, and what had Grillby called for? On the other hand, if the fire monster had worried about him  _ that much… _

He turned on his heel towards the food stand at the opposite side of the lobby, relieved that it was still open. Well, that was good for them, at least. The clerk inside was a harrowed, world-weary feline that all but slumped over the polished yellow countertop. His cat-like eyes slid in a sidelong glance as a stream of smoke pushed out of his nose. He then butted out his cigarette into a crushed soda can. It was as though the entire day had been long enough without the addition of Sans’ visit.

The cat seemed on the verge of both attempting and avoiding conversation, so he barely made eye contact with the skeleton. He took Sans’ order and went about preparing it as Sans idled in place.

Soon after he’d paid, Sans took the burger and starfait back to the room with a small wave. Poor kid, probably overworked. Sans knew exactly how he felt, holding down four jobs himself. Four jobs that he realised with a pang of guilt, Papyrus was covering for.

When he got back to the room, he hadn’t expected to see Grillby asleep. Sans’ grin dropped a little as he approached. Grillby didn’t even budge when he’d entered the room. In the time he’d been gone, his friend had unslung his suspenders and hung his arms over the back of the chair to rest.

Maybe Grillby hadn’t intended to sleep that way? His glasses were set on the desk next to him, so it was possible that Grillby decided to ignore his advice altogether.

Sans gently nudged his shoulder with a bony finger, watching the languid motion of the flames from Grillby’s head grow a little brighter with the disturbance.

“grillbz,” Sans called quietly, then tossed his wrapped burger onto the bed without too much care.

He tapped the fire monster’s shoulder again, then settled his hand onto his back, as though the action would rouse him. All it did was make the nervous titillating feeling return. Luckily Grillby was a lighter sleeper than Sans was and he turned his head to face him, looking blearily rumpled.

“c’mon, man. eat something first, then take the bed. don’t want you to go out on me,” Sans offered quietly. He withdrew his hand to allow Grillby to sit up, who sighed as though the disturbance was unmerited. Encouragingly, Sans held out the starfait.

When Grillby accepted it, Sans couldn’t help the thought that his friend could still look so refined in addition to fatigued. Grillby did as he requested, though -- after all, he was very cooperative. Sans very obviously kept his eye lights to himself as he took a seat beside the bed to eat his burger.

If he hadn’t known better, Sans could’ve sworn that he  _ tasted  _ something, but he knew that was just impossible. Skeletons didn’t have tongues, taste buds, stomachs or anything to taste food with; he’d never heard such a thing.

Obviously, Sans had come to the conclusion that his brother’s reportedly ‘inedible’ cooking was because of this. So… maybe it was just the texture of the glitter? He mentally shrugged off the curiosity and finished it, feeling much better for it. Content for the moment, Sans slouched against the bed’s side and balled up the foil wrapping.

His eye lights searched out Grillby’s face, who looked as though he was about to fall asleep again. His grasp on his half-eaten starfait was tilted and his posture was once more slumped against the back of the chair. With an exhale, Sans pulled himself up off the floor and took the glass mug to set it aside.

“c’mon, sleepyhead. i’ll tuck you in.”

Sans was sure he hadn’t seen the fire monster look so exhausted before. A handful of times he’d been tired after a week-long holiday. Mostly it’d been after a rush that flooded into Snowdin for Gyftmas a couple years ago, but nothing quite so serious.

So Sans helped Grillby to stand, led him to the bed where he could rest and promptly took the chair for himself so there’d be no arguments. Sans turned it so it could easily be tilted against the wall and he leaned back on it, his skull nestled into the fur lining of his jacket. Sans decided to keep watch over his friend until sleep claimed him too.

~

They were far better off after some rest. As usual, Sans rose late, though earlier than most days as Grillby had woken him with some rather unpleasant news. The elevator that led to the capital was out of order and apart from some main security features, electric magic to the generators was delayed. They would have to make the journey through the CORE on foot.

Sans sighed, groggily following the fire monster through to the lobby, then aimlessly paced around while Grillby purchased breakfast for the road. His thoughts that morning were all erratic and he’d been distracted ever since Grillby informed him of the easier route’s closure.

Suffice to say, he wasn’t a fan of the CORE. The air always gave Sans the feeling that he was missing something important in his life. That, and the area was a little too sterile and mechanical for his liking. He preferred his sleepy little town of Snowdin, off in the sticks in the middle of the forest, a long way from the capital. It was always difficult to be reminded of his old job, his old life, and passing through the area when he could’ve avoided it altogether didn’t sit well with Sans.

Still, he promised himself. And in a way, he’d done the same with Grillby. Sans noticed that he was beginning to promise more and more lately.

It pulled him from his pensive mood when Grillby stood before him, caught off guard. How long had the fire monster been waiting for him to snap out of it? It meant that he was slipping, and Sans knew it.

His grin tugged apologetically and Sans stuck his hands into his pockets as he regarded his friend. Grillby looked a lot better than the previous night, flames all aglow with their usual splendour, eyes bright and full of energy. He found himself grinning more and winked at Grillby’s expectant pose.

“sorry, spaced out.” Sans caught the way Grillby seemed to pause, but he thought nothing of it.

_ “We’ll have to walk there, I was saying. Are you fit to _ … _? We can stay here awhile longer… if you require more time to rest.” _

Sans pulled a hand out of his jacket to scratch at his jaw then gave a half shrug. “nah. we gotta get goin’ and i’m feeling ok.”

Grillby seemed to regard the skeleton for a moment, his posture betraying any uncertainty he might’ve felt before strolling away from the crowded lobby and towards the alternate path. Noticing, Sans hummed to himself and blindly followed Grillby through the heavy steel doors north of the resort.

As they walked across the bridge, Sans distracted himself by cycling through his thoughts to mentally prepare himself for the next part of their journey.

He could just barely detect the crisp smell of ozone, metal and fibreglass from beyond the corridor when Grillby stopped him. Inquiringly, the skeleton looked at him then down to the hand against his sternum, radiating a gentle heat. He ignored the fluttering that jump-started in that moment and tilted his skull questioningly. He was all too aware of Grillby’s permeative heat and how it was not at all unwelcome, he realised.

_ “Your shoes, Sans.” _ A leisurely smirk tugged Sans’ permanent grin and he shuffled his feet a little, the sound of scuffed wood underfoot echoing off the cavern walls.  _ “Would not do to trip again.” _

“ok,” Sans murmured automatically and stooped down to stuff the laces back behind the tongues of his shoes again. He glanced up with the fire monster’s patient sigh and had to prevent himself from jumping when Grillby knelt down on one knee to fix the laces himself, looping each one in a perfect, tight bow.

Sans wasn’t quite sure how to process that, so he kept quiet, his soul trembling as the fire monster helped him to rise. He had to get a hold of himself; Sans chastised himself internally at the simple little joy he felt with the attention. It was ridiculous. Fortunately, Grillby didn’t comment on his pause, he only led the way to the next area.

The mix of odours hit Sans’ senses and he grimaced, hunching his skull further into his hoodie while his eye lights darted around the walls and floors. The smooth surfaces of cobaltite and polished steel threw Grillby’s incandescent light around them like a kaleidoscope. It intermingled and shrouded the corridor’s usual azure glow from the many wires and fixtures in neat coils and tubes along the walls. It littered the floor, faint refractions of light illuminating the pathways like flecks of chipped opal.

It wasn’t just the atmosphere that unnerved Sans about this place, nor the missing part of his past either. It was, if he probed deep enough, a stifling and sickening half-memory that tugged at him, of something that had gone so wrong there…

He’d been employed during its development, yet vital pieces were missing as to who was involved. It had been strange, considering that Sans and a handful of other scientists and engineers couldn’t recollect what had transpired, but felt they all felt the same malaise. In addition to that, there were no records of any accidents or disappearances. Eventually, it was dismissed as a magic hiccup -- a setback that affected those close to the CORE’s development and architecture at the time.

It was unnerving. It wasn’t like the invasion of strange memories from past or future offshoots; it was as though something was just gone, and everything that pointed to it was missing too. As he did as he always had while in the CORE, Sans mulled it over, bothered.

He stayed a half-step behind Grillby as he walked and attempted to focus on his light -- and  _ not _ the azure glow around them that brought up this encompassing dread. The intensity of this particular shade of blue made his bones quiver and his soul lurch uncomfortably, as though something from the colour was going to reach out and grab him.

_ “Been rather quiet,” _ Grillby suddenly interrupted the silence after they’d passed into the next room. He turned his head to look at his companion over his shoulder.

Sans stopped, his eye lights focusing on Grillby’s face. He didn’t quite know what to say to that. Evasively, he shrugged, dragging his gaze away to the tubes of fuchsia wires poking out from the walls and leading down the corridor. Far away, he could see a couple maintenance workers fixing a dimly lit passage over a gaping black chasm.

_ “Anything on your mind, friend?” _ Grillby spoke kindly, fully turning so they were facing each other.

Sans avoided his direct look, something hidden in his features. After a moment, he finally spoke, the following words sounding hollow yet somehow light-hearted at the same time.

“nah. i used to work here for a bit, just… don’t like the vibe.”

Grillby released a thoughtful hum as Sans stepped forward to continue walking, this time side by side. Occasionally, he’d steal glances at Sans as they walked down the metal grate floors, and noticed how Sans had shouldered into his jacket with his eye lights shrunken down to pinpoints. Sans would flinch and look away from the path at distant noises, searching around erratically as though spooked.

_ “Hold any superstitions of this place?” _

Sans was caught off guard by the question and turned his head to look at Grillby. “what?”

The fire monster shrugged, the rolling of his shoulders discreet and relaxed; it was obvious he didn’t share the skeleton’s ominous discomfort.  _ “I only ask because you’ve become quite sombre and agitated,” _ he added hesitatingly.  _ “Perhaps we could chat along the way.” _

Sans chuckled half-heartedly, burrowing his hands a little further into his pockets and thoughtfully picked at the linty crumbs in the corners. “yeah… i dunno about  _ that _ , but the place definitely gives me the creeps.”

_ “ _ … _ Anything happened that would… result in such an ominous impression?” _

They continued into the next corridor. The blast of iron white energy from the CORE’s mechanics far below flooded the area with a dense, blinding light; at least, blinding to any monster unaccustomed to such intensity.

“nothing really comes to mind. there weren’t really any accidents or trip-ups during development, but…”

Sans stopped and idly scratched at his breastbone in thought, watching the flicker of viridian light settle in an arch of electricity over one of the paths to their immediate right. It was too high to jump and too low to stoop under. Defeated, he sighed as Grillby approached the beam to inspect it. He would’ve waited for it to power down on its own -- they had the time, nothing was pressing -- but Sans just felt they had to  _ leave. _

“don’t get too close, g.”

_ “Have traversed this road before. This was never an issue…” _ the fire monster supplied candidly as he gestured to the electric blockade.

Sans watched him, his form highlighted by the fierce light source from below the platforms. It cast Grillby in a spectacular aura as his flames flickered when he moved. Sans stood captivated for a moment, then snapped out of it with a vague grin. He hesitated before deciding on his own that he’d deal with it.

Easier now that he wasn’t taking Grillby with him, magic coursed through Sans’ bones from his reserves. With the pull, Sans’ body still felt frayed and over-used, but he was committed. He saw the distressed expression spoil Grillby’s face and gave him a small wave and a grin.

As his body phased through the fissure in reality, Sans called out, “one sec, buddo,” just as he disappeared from view.

_ “Sans, don’t-!” _ Grillby was already too late.

It was much easier to travel via shortcut by himself. Sans huffed a small relieved breath when he appeared a few feet away from the maintenance panel on the wall, several rooms and hallways away. He shrugged as he walked along, murmuring a quiet apology to Grillby in his absence and humming nonsensically as he approached the panel.

For a moment, Sans thought he’d heard a creak in the distance, but put the distressed thought away, focused on the current task. And that was deactivating the security beam so they could get the hell out of this damned place without doubling up on shortcuts. He just didn’t have it in him right now.

Sans pulled his left hand from the safety of his pocket and he raised it to meet the security clearance panel. It registered with a dull mechanical whirr and a few computerised blips -- then static. Sans gestured in front of it, relieved that his old code still worked even after all these years. He was a little rusty, but Sans got used to the small flicks and signals as if it were second nature. Something tugged at the back of his mind that he felt didn’t seem right.

At the end of the last gesture, something dark flashed at the back of his wrist and Sans quickly withdrew his hand, as though he’d been burned. He snapped his head around and whirled backwards as his magic sparked defensively, his breath hitching in a start. It added an eerie cast and shadow to the surroundings as cyan and deep blue coiled restlessly around the room.

No one there.

Nervous and breathy laughter escaped him without control and Sans’ eye lights warily scanned the area for anything out of place, “very funny, grillbz.” But he didn’t see anyone -- none of his friend’s flames, no workers or sentries. No one. His bones clattered a little despite the tension in Sans’ body and he gave the area another cursory glance. Cautiously, he gave his hand a rub and tried to steel his nerves.

Sans tried again, his breath shuddering as he attempted the same sequence, this time ending with a punctuated flick of the wrist for good measure. The panel clicked and made a soft grating noise as the metal covering slid to the side and revealed the PIN pad; a sequence of four rows and three columns.

The shiny buttons were scratched from years of daily use, enamelled numbers all worn down except for the upper middle, second left and second right row: 2, 6, and 4. Sans pointedly ignored those digits, focusing on his own: 017

The glow of the cerulean lights briefly fluttered overhead. He heard another thrum of mechanics and magic, then sighed in relief once more as he readied himself to zip back to Grillby. As Sans drew in from his reserves again, the flow hiccupped and hitched. Something caught inside of him and his magic abruptly seized, sending Sans down to one knee with a dizzied grunt.

Usually he was able to use his shortcuts in quick succession, though it appeared that the area’s support magic seemed off, almost unstable -- and it affected him. Sans chalked it up to being exhausted, as he always did, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling of… someone else in the room.

Nervously, he looked around but still saw no one there. No other shadows except for his, no magic apart from the CORE and Sans’ in the immediate area. There was only a small register of Grillby and other maintenance crews further inside. Uneasily, Sans lurched to his feet again to pull the panel closed and lock it.

Maybe… maybe he’d walk instead, he thought. It wasn’t too far but he hurried nonetheless, keeping an anxious glance over his shoulder as his shoes fell heavily against the ore’s surface. Sans trudged down to the opposite side of where Grillby was waiting, trying to shake the feeling of being followed.

At Grillby’s pointed glare, Sans shrunk down into his hoodie, offering him a carefree smile and wink despite how difficult it was to keep himself loose and easy.

“had to trip the panel.”

_ “Told you-” _ Grillby started, although he stopped and let the sentence hang when he saw that Sans was acting somewhat skittishly.  _ “Did something happen?” _

“nah, everything’s cool. let’s just get going.”

Evasively, Sans shrugged and turned on his heel to lead the way down the last few corridors. Grillby noticed the tension in Sans’ shoulders and hurried to follow, but he didn’t press the issue. Even though Sans occasionally threw troubled glances behind them, Grillby knew not to agitate him. He just assumed that it had something to do with Sans’ old line of work and the resulting uneasiness he felt at the CORE. Perhaps he’d be told later, if Sans felt the need to open up. Grillby certainly wouldn’t press the matter.

As they approached the last corridor that would lead to the outskirts of New Home, Grillby could tell that Sans was a lot more relaxed than before. He’d fallen back in stride beside the fire monster and Sans’ head was nodding gently as he walked.

They made good time; they exited the CORE, blue lights and cold steel transformed to beautifully warm and intricately carved spires, steeples and high rising houses, shops and restaurants.

The air was different here, filled with the warm thrum of colour and monster life as they went about their daily routines. Smaller monsters in striped shirts ran and flew through the streets and around vendor stalls, puncturing the din of chatter with laughter as hundreds of people wove through in simple day to day life.

In the centuries that followed their banishment to the Underground, the caverns were carved deeper to accommodate the ever-increasing population. The cave system sprawled throughout Mount Ebott, down as far as the barrier would reach. Monsterkind would’ve continued digging, had the barrier not held them back. This had been before the skeleton brothers came to be, so all they had to go on were history texts and stories from a certain old turtle in Waterfall.

It’d been years since Sans had visited New Home. The air was the same, but this time there was a dark terror that tugged at his soul when his thoughts wandered. It was different than before -- of following that morally-destitute creature through the Underground to this place. Every face of every monster that he looked at now, he saw their counterpart in fear and horror -- and the grave of dust they left behind.

And he’d be too weak to stop any of it.

Sans shivered and hunched into his hood, avoiding Grillby’s troubled look as they pushed forward. He provided no reason for his discomfort, but Sans’ soul gave a nervous and grateful flutter when the fire monster rested his hand upon his back in gentle reassurance. It was as though Grillby knew what he was feeling and wanted to soothe him; but that was impossible, wasn’t it?

He had to keep himself in check.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby is starting to get touchy-feely, and Sans is still tormented about his feelings, but at least he's joking again. Which means, little by little, he's coming to terms with things. Things are getting better, that is, until Sans makes an ass out of himself on more than one occasion.

Weaving throughout the crowds into the centre downtown core of New Home had been a challenge, even with Grillby’s keen sense of direction. Sans had to admit, he’d never once thought he would return to it, and the capital had changed so much since he and his brother had lived there. There were old familiar places, buildings that were once cafes or shops he used to frequent that took on new names and appearances.

It made him homesick in a way. At the same time, he knew the  _ people _ never changed.

Still, there wasn’t much time to be wandering aimlessly around the streets in the early afternoon. Grillby led him through the crowds, straight to the warehousing district.

Admittedly, Sans was curious about the contents of the item box and watched Grillby retrieve his stacks of crates one by one from the dimensional tool. He never had to think about it after development, and after the testing stages were complete and it was ready for the public’s use, Sans just simply forgot about it. Quantum engineering just had too many projects on the go to keep track of after completion, after all. It was one of those small things in his old line of work that actually  _ helped _ people’s quality of life, opposed to the rest of it…

Sans snapped out of his reverie when Grillby asked for help to carry the crates into the warehouse next to them. He grinned despite himself. If Papyrus learned of this new helpful nature of his, he’d never hear the end of it. And working on his day off? Well, Papyrus would question what happened to his  _ real  _ brother then. 

The interior was a noisy hub of monsters of all kinds and their respective patrons. Grillby’s distributor was the stout Diamond Head wearing a worn pair of green overalls that held a clipboard with a mess of papers attached to it. Their face blinked and shifted different hues of blue and grey as opposed to using a voice. It wasn’t anything unusual, as most monsters did not have any conventional mouths with which to communicate, the trio being amongst them.

Regardless, Sans didn’t pay much attention to the conversation. He just lazily leaned against a stack of crates with his eyes closed and his hands buried in his pockets, until Grillby approached him again. Then the two of them started on the trade, the haul of exchanged stock much heavier than their counterparts as they hoisted the load outside to the dimensional box. Some boxes were so heavy the three of them had to carry them out, and even then it was a challenge. Suddenly, Sans wasn’t looking forward to unloading it on the other end.

_ “I must remember to compensate you for aiding me with all this,” _ the fire monster was saying as Sans watched the last small crate slip out of view and into the box’s domain. Sans made an interrogative grunt as he turned, realising the fire monster had been talking to  _ him. _

“what? no way. i’m not doing this for any kind of reward-” Sans shook his hands and grinned despite himself. “‘sides, i like hangin’ with ya.” He watched as Grillby chuckled heartily as he dusted wood chips and dirt from his jacket and straightened his clothes.

_ “Am rather fond of your company as well, my friend,” _ the fire monster replied jovially. The flames of his face arranged into a shy smile in turn.

Sans had to hold back the thought -- to dismiss it altogether before he read too much into it, but his grin broadened at Grillby’s tone anyway. His soul betrayed him again by thudding dully and he rubbed at his chest to ease it away again, averting his eye lights.

“i’d appreciate it, y’know… if we didn’t tell paps what happened,” Sans said after a moment’s pause and shuffled his shoes against the gravelly shale road. “he knows i have my shortcuts, but i don’t think he knows what’s involved. i’d like to keep things pretty much… simple, y’know? he’s already got enough on his plate with the whole undyne and royal guard thing.”

Sans eyed Grillby as he leaned against the closed dimensional box next him, as though to studiously watch him. Sans shrunk down with the look, giving another half-hearted shrug as though to avoid the untold advice.

He’d heard it many times before; that his brother cared about him and anything he felt, should be shared with Papyrus. They were family, but somehow Sans felt that it was more of a closed boundary, especially considering what had led to what was  _ definitely _ irregular skeletal powers…

_ “Should not hide from him, especially… the things that affect your health,” _ his friend chided, although his tone was quiet and gentle.

Sans scanned Grillby’s face, wishing that the thread of guilt wasn’t so easily woven into him like that. He laughed, the sound forced and aching in his ribs.

“nah, i’m fine. always have been. never better, in fact.”

_ “Continue to say that as though you’re attempting to convince yourself, not me,” _ Grillby pointedly stated as his flames flickered with mild agitation.  _ “Should you think this is the best you can afford to be… your brother and I will continue to worry.” _

Put on the spot, Sans absently scratched his jawbone as he looked around them. He looked to escape the frown he was given, all concern and sincerity that tugged at his soul just  _ so. _ Sans’ soul shuddered at those two simple words  _ ‘and I’, _ and the compassion with which his friend spoke.

He only knew that his desperate little heart was grasping at straws and searching for anything to cling to in a hope for affection. Sans stayed quiet for a time, unsure of what to say, feeling flushed behind the ribs. He muttered something under his breath.

Grillby hummed softly, the noise a questioned punctuation to Sans’ thoughts and he raised his voice, embarrassed; “didn’t know you cared so much.” His laugh had a bitter quaver and Sans hated the sound of it immediately.

Grillby sighed, the sound kind yet admonishing at the same time.  _ “Would make a poor excuse for both a monster and companion if I did not,” _ was his careful reply. Then he exhaled deeply, smoke pluming from his face in a steady stream. It was as though the action soothed him and Grillby crossed his arms over his chest.  _ “Suppose that is why I… got angry.” _

The skeleton blinked and looked back to his friend, suddenly not liking where the conversation was headed. “what, you?”

It was the fire monster’s turn to shuffle uneasily, the movement so distinct yet uncommon, Sans couldn’t help but stare.  _ “Had… thought you had Fallen.” _

The lights of Sans’ sockets shrunk noticeably and his entire body tensed, shoes scuffing the road. He immediately adjusted himself to something that didn’t betray his shock. The rise of shame and alarm swirled inside of his soul like a torrent, erasing any fluttering feelings he’d felt before.

He forced his bones to still from their subtle clattering. He was so obsessed with how he appeared that Sans didn’t register that Grillby moved -- until he was quite literally inches away from him. His eye sockets hollowed and his arms were frozen with the sudden swell of fear.

“oh.”

Sans stole a glance through dark eye sockets, his grin artificially tugged high as he attempted to keep himself reserved.

So that was it, then. Grillby knew about his vastly underwhelming health. He’d tiptoe around him from now on, pity him, treat him like glass like any others did when he used to live in the capital. He wouldn’t be invited anywhere, would be treated as an invalid, like a sick person so close to Falling Down that he’d eventually be forgotten about.

The last thought punctuated his fears like a knife in the chest. Sans gripped each of his sleeves, still grinning wide and hating the way his breath hitched when he finally spoke, lower than before.

“th.. that’s dumb. i’m perfectly ok. absolutely. just tired, heh… just-”

Could he not keep himself together, even for one day? He couldn’t help but grimace, but he remained rooted on the spot.

Grillby had stayed quiet throughout the skeleton’s mental anguish, concern upon his face, clear as crystal. For once, he’d said the wrong thing and Grillby wasn’t sure how to fix it. Sans was so tense, so agitated, so put on guard. He’d never seen him this way before. If he was honest, Grillby was more than a little concerned that Sans would flee his company rather than talk about it.

So even though he had his reservations, the bartender gave him a way out;  _ “Been more tired lately than I’ve ever seen you before. You’ve been working hard,” _ his voice was an emphatic and resounding lull of fire,  _ “I’m sure your bad nights haven’t made things any easier, either. Why don’t we stay here for the day?” _

“can’t stay. gotta go.” Sans’ voice was stilted and quick, his mind running a mile a minute. “your stock-”

Grillby straightened and he set both of his hands on Sans’ shoulders, pouring every essence of his being into a soothing presence.  _ “-Can wait. Please, I insist.” _

He noticed the way Sans flinched and he looked down at his skull, his blaze highlighting the smooth bone and small hairline cracks. After a moment, Sans shifted his weight onto one side, hesitant. A beat of silence passed between them and Sans finally sighed, shoulders slumping in resignation. Then, as though he had no other choice, he gave a short nod of submission.

It was foolish for him to rely on Grillby for comfort the way he did, and Sans knew he was only setting himself up for disappointment. His soul was stressed with such restraint and shame that he’d nearly pushed Grillby away. Instead, he stayed silent as the soothing hands stayed upon his shoulders, spreading that velvet-smooth, comforting warmth through his clothes. It seeped into his body, settling straight into his bones’ marrow.

_ Warm. _

Pushing the thought away, Sans cracked a rueful grin. “if you’re insisting… then ok.”

_ “I am.” _

Sans’ eye lights flickered back into their sockets but he didn’t look up. His soul felt heavy with a weight he’d never quite experienced before. Sans stared at the neatly tied black bow tie, all but avoiding his friend’s face.

“i owe ya one, for luggin’ my sleeping corpse from waterfall to kingdom come,” he offered as a joke to dispel the tension, but there was truth to it too. Grillby’s expression was withering but gentle at Sans’ self-deprecating tone. Sans winced. “i dunno if i’ve said it yet, but… thanks.”

Grillby chuckled softly as his hands left Sans’ shoulders and turned towards the street. Sans found that he’d grown accustomed to Grillby’s warmth, having it radiate through him all the way from Waterfall to the hotel in Hotland. It elicited conflicted emotions and pulled him into two separate directions like a tug of war.

So when Grillby’s arm encircled his shoulders to guide him along, for a moment Sans froze, his soul’s pulse thundering through his skull to taunt him. As the fire monster walked, he found himself automatically moving, so close to his body that it was difficult to keep from trembling.

Maybe he could indulge himself. Just a little. Just enough so every damned touch wasn’t such a shock to his starved system. Distracted, Sans kept his hands buried in his pockets as Grillby led them around, their conversation quiet and eventually becoming more relaxed as time passed.

They wandered down the streets and through side alleys where various vendor stalls were sprawled out with trinkets, treats and souvenirs for sale or trade. The bustle of city life had its appeal, but it wasn’t the same as home, ironically enough.

As they made their way closer to where the skeleton brothers used to live, Sans pointed out a few areas of interest. Gardens and stone gullies full of yellow flowers in bloom, statues they’d played on in their striped shirt days, little hiding spots that still had a few scratches from their fun there, long ago.

As he showed Grillby around, Sans became more relaxed and his smile was easier and more tender. Such an ordinary place brought up the more pleasant memories of his childhood with Papyrus.

“-and  _ this _ is the infamous stump that defeated the great papyrus,” he was saying, gesturing languidly with both hands to a half-dead tree in the middle of a courtyard. Almost theatrically, he turned on his heel. “broke his radius on that one.”

Grillby had been watching with glittering eyes Sans strolled around. Sans’ body language revealed the simple reverie of the place as he chuckled amongst his memories. The area they were in was sparse of other monsters so it was just the two of them, with Sans’ carefree drawl echoing against the edifices that were carved into shapes of ancient fallen war heroes.

_ “Though not you, right?” _

Sans stopped and rubbed at his jaw in thought, eye lights searching out the ceiling high above where small shafts of light broke through the natural crevices in the mountain.

“i think… i probably did. don’t really remember,  _ tibia- _ honest, but i’m always crackin’ up in a few places,” he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders with a grin.

Grillby’s visage twisted in a wry smile as he approached Sans.  _ “Don’t think I didn’t notice that,” _ he retorted, his tone teasing.

“notice what?”

_ “You’re joking again.” _ Grillby gestured towards him and all Sans could do was stare at him, dumbstruck. Then something clicked, and his expression softened a little bashfully with a brief shake of his head.  _ “No… it’s good. I rather enjoy your puns.” _

Sans hunched into his hood again, unable to conceal the reaction as well as he would have liked. “…n’me yours.” At the fire monster’s inquisitive glance, Sans straightened and nervously patted his hands in his pockets. Idly, he scratched the back of his leg with a shoe. “de-leg?  _ really, _ grillbz?” His tone was humoured regardless and he laughed at Grillby’s rather pained expression.

_ “Thought it was… humerus.” _

Sans burst into cackles in response.

~

“i got one more!”

_ “Sans, please, it’s been two hours-” _

The two had been wandering around the downtown core as Sans assaulted the fire monster with a series of increasingly bad jokes. It impressed Grillby that Sans had committed so many jokes to memory, but then there was rarely anything Grillby wasn’t impressed by what Sans was capable of. He rolled his eyes in response to Sans, whom had giddily half-skipped in front of him, but Grillby much preferred this to the tense, practically morose state that Sans had been in hours before.

“what’s it called when a skeleton has trouble with his house?” Sans’ grin widened while he waited for an answer, and Grillby couldn’t help but cover his face with a hand and sigh theatrically. Sans’ smile was infectious, after all. “a  _ grave _ problem.”

_ “That’s morbid.” _ The fire monster chuckled despite himself, and Sans joined in.  _ “Where did you say you acquired such material?” _

“the trash.” Sans shrugged as though it was a perfectly acceptable answer. He was still recovering from his laughing fit. “can’t imagine why; it’s all grade-A material! covered end to end with pictures of little pumpkins with faces and all about skeletons and ghosts, and stuff. pretty spiffy.”

_ “Appears to be a peculiar topic. Was a skeleton the one who had authored it?” _

“i.. i’m pretty sure it’s just me and paps, unless the book is super-ancient,” Sans remarked thoughtfully. “at least, i don’t recall any more skeles..?”

_ “Perhaps it’s something to ask Sir Gerson about, the next time you find yourself that way,” _ the fire monster suggested, then hummed quietly.  _ “……I think I have one.” _

“oh?” Sans braced himself, eyeing Grillby with a ready grin.

_ “A skeleton walks into a bar and asks the bartender for a shot and a mop.” _

“uh. i don’t think i’ve heard this one.”

Grillby’s smirk quirked slightly at Sans’ anticipation.  _ “He was a responsible drinker, after all.” _

Sans’ peals of laughter echoed through the street, causing a few in the crowd to look after them as they passed. Grillby chuckled at the reaction until Sans finally recovered from his boisterous and wheezing laugh.

“jokes about skeletons  _ and _ bars? you’re an ace, a guy after my own heart!”

The words breezed past Sans’ teeth before he even had time to think about it and his soul did another nervous flip with his friend’s gentle hum of agreement.

Sans realised that it’d probably be the closest he’d ever get to a confession, so he played it off as a joke. After all, it really was. No one else would know and the sad gag was a conspiracy between his heart and soul.

Grillby noticed his friend’s subtle shift in attitude and although he suspected something, it was a vague estimate as to what Sans was feeling. Sans obviously wrestled with a lot of things in his mind, and Grillby took it as his duty to keep his friend from lingering on them too much. In consideration, he opted for a distraction, gesturing to a line of shop fronts down another street.

Sans took the distraction readily, his soul quivering as he looked above to the old sign. Cobwebs were scattered in the windows, although much more than simple desertion would merit. It was as though the intricate signs were woven and spun into the shop’s name, which had deteriorated with age. He recognised the violet sign and sighed quietly, jabbing a thumb at the door.

“muffet’s used to be here. was my old stompin’ ground,” he offered quietly. “kinda miss the spider cider.” He laughed, the sound hollow as he gestured with both hands to describe what he was thinking of. “for awhile she had these… ringed orange things -- sprinkled with sweets and some other sticky stuff, with a batter over it. ringed pumpkins, i think? if y’think pap doesn’t like grease, you should’ve seen him with the sticky stuff.” Then Sans gave an honest laugh. “i guess she doesn’t make ‘em anymore, though. wonder where she went?”

Grillby inspected the door, leaning close to make out the makeshift note spun on the other side of the glass pane.  _ “‘Family emergency’, it says,” _ he read aloud.  _ “Do you think it’s serious?” _

“well, it’s vague. and her family’s kinda huge.” Sans shrugged nonchalantly. “she’d put it on there if it was bad. she’s the eccentric type.”

As they wandered it got later in the afternoon until the small shafts of light overhead of the city dimmed, a signal to the fall of evening over the large capital. The streets had begun to clear as they decided to turn back, lanterns and lights flickering on as the nightlife started.

Grillby insisted upon getting a bite to eat from a street vendor on their way, then ultimately decided that it would be best to spend the night at the capital. When Sans gave him an incredulous look from the middle of enjoying his stuffed dinner roll -- which he could’ve  _ sworn  _ he could taste something of -- the fire monster offered a nonchalant shrug, citing that it was  _ “too late to be wandering the CORE and Hotland, anyway.” _

Since he’d been suddenly aware of his friend’s spending so frivolously during their trip, Sans at least had the sense to talk Grillby into getting only one room. He noted the way Grillby seemed to freeze, put on the spot, but Sans shook his hands excusingly.

“i can fall asleep anywhere. i don’t need no fancy bed,” he said as the moment passed and Grillby got the key to their room, still tinged a little paler than usual. Saying nothing, Grillby started down the hall, where Sans followed side by side, oblivious. “‘sides, i’m easy. if anything, you wouldn’t mind me in bed.”

Sans realised what he’d said the moment the words came out of his mouth,  _ then _ caught the surprised look on Grillby’s face shortly before the flames obscured it, paler yellow like it had flustered Grillby. Inwardly, Sans groaned and covered his face.

“word boner -- er, b-blunder,” he quickly excused in an attempt to laugh it off.

_ Fuck. _

Grillby, as polite as always, gave in to an embarrassed chuckle, running his hand through the flames on his head to stoke them. The movement was more than a little captivating.

_ “Your remarks lately have been rather _ … _ incendiary.” _ His voice had lowered to a quiet murmur as they walked to their room, as though he was embarrassed. Sans shrank into his hoodie, feeling that he couldn’t feel any more bothered than he did in his entire life, at that very moment.

“f-fire jokes, grillbz?  _ really? _ ” He tried to laugh it off again as Grillby unlocked the door and held it open for him. Sans hesitated for a moment until he finally turned into the room, feeling hot under the collar and embarrassed for all the stupid little blunders that day.

_ “Thought you’d appreciate the effort.” _

“i.. i do, and… y’know -- a-actually, i should call papyrus,” Sans said dumbly, trying to save face. Desperately, he scanned the room for the complementary phone. Once his eye lights found the old rotary on the wall, Sans all but darted towards it. Meanwhile, Grillby removed his shoes and jacket, and moved to sit at one of the plush comfortable chairs by the inlay hearth. “tell him i’ll be longer than i thought-”

Sans’ hands trembled a little as he dialled in his brother’s phone number, looking directly at the receiver hook and absolutely  _ not _ at Grillby. It took a couple rings longer than usual for Papyrus to answer.

His soul thrumming hard like a drum, Sans tried to recover from his horrifying slip-up. “heyyyy!!” he all but yelled into the phone. Sans’ voice sounded raw and nervous. “baby bro! we made it to new home and just thought i’d tell you that, uh, i’m gonna be later than i thought… what? no, no, i’m great! awesome. perfect. fantastic. peachy. cool as a cucumber. pick a synonym. so-”

Grillby quietly watched and listened as the call took place, noticing how Sans was so obviously agitated during his conversation with his brother. From the receiver, Papyrus’ voice was crystal clear at times, then it would lower to barely anything at all. Grillby idly wondered if this was the longest the two had been separate, and if Sans’ discomfort throughout their travels had anything to do with it. Or at the very least, perhaps it had contributed to his unease.

Sans had said some intriguing things, whether he’d intended to or not. Although he didn’t address it, this didn’t mean that Grillby wasn’t developing an insight as to Sans’ thoughts. The nervous behaviour, the conversational slips, the awkward and almost bashful demeanour -- the fire monster had thought as much.

He couldn’t help but smile inwardly at the fragile tenderness that had been developing during their time together. But, in case he misread Sans, Grillby didn’t want to assume. It would hurt him far too much if he was wrong, and it’d wound Sans’ pride.

It was something that Sans was taking care to hide. It wasn’t often that Grillby misread people, but he didn’t want to risk it. Not with Sans.

His flames fluttered at the sensation in his soul and he looked away as Sans wrapped up his conversation with his brother. Grillby realised that he knew how to make this a little easier.

When Sans was asleep, Grillby would make a call of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made an illustration for this chapter, which you can see on [deviantArt](https://www.deviantart.com/skerbb/art/Postcards-From-Waterfall-ch-7-art-817149931) or on my [sfw tumblr!](https://skerbaderbadoo.tumblr.com/post/187164206637) :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What's a star?"
> 
> Self-care and awkward flirts. Everyone has a good laugh.  
> Grillby tells Sans a secret.

It’d been awhile since Sans had slept without interruption -- to feel that blissful state of unawareness that lulled him into a sense of security and peace. It was a deep sleep too, one that lingered and lightened the longer it went on, more than his usual dreams did. He remarked somewhere in the corner of his sleeping mind, that not even Papyrus was able to push away the darkness, as it had been banished those couple nights ago.

So had it been because of the lingering fire in the corners of his subconscious, or was he going crazy?

~

When Sans woke on his own volition the following morning, he felt that the war within himself had finally gone to rest. He had more than one HP to cling to, the buffer full and stronger than it had ever been by a sizeable fourteen points. It was almost as though he was a kid again, regaining HP overnight only to eventually whittle down…

Still in a lulled state, Sans rolled over, then blinked in confusion at the give in the carpet. He groaned to himself and huddled into it, content and comfortable.

No…

Wait, not carpet.

_ Bed. _

His eyes snapping open, Sans identified the unmistakable feel of heavy cloth over his body and the sink of the mattress under him. His mind fluctuated between groggy confusion and searing embarrassment.

No, he  _ had _ been sleeping on the floor… he was sure of that.

So did that mean Grillby…?

Sans scanned the bed as he pushed himself up. It was certainly larger than anything he’d slept in before, but Grillby wasn’t on the opposite side (laying down with him), so Sans exhaled loudly in relief. In fact, the fire monster wasn’t even in the room.

Puzzled, Sans sat up, the first thing that drew his attention was that his hoodie was missing and a precursory glance around told him that it wasn’t anywhere in the room, either.

But, he’d fallen asleep wearing his hoodie. He rarely took it off; he felt naked without it. Sans slouched in thought, idly scratching at his lower spine through his plain white shirt as he attempted to figure it out and replay the previous night in his mind.

Apart from his idiotic slip-ups, the evening had been fairly pleasant and without much drama. Grillby was reserved after his pale flames died down -- whatever  _ that _ meant. They’d played a few games with a pen and paper to pass the time until Sans ultimately got tired enough to doze where he sat.

Oh, so he  _ had _ voluntarily removed his hoodie. Sans tapped his jaw, the soft clack a soothing sound that emphasised his pensive mood. So where had it gone? Where had  _ Grillby _ gone?

What was the reason he took it off again?

He grated his knuckles against his sternum, agitation rising in Sans as he had no  _ idea _ what possessed Grillby to leave with his hoodie. Papyrus had given it to him in their youth, assuring him that he’d grow into it. Sans never did, but that’s what he loved about it. It was big and cosy, had just the right amount of fur in the hood, the pockets were deep and comforting. He’d had it for ages, damn it, and it was his favourite.

Flustered, he rubbed his hands over his face and groaned, having looked at the desk and night table for a note.

Nothing.

He groaned again, louder this time. How long had Grillby been gone? Sans glanced at the old-fashioned clock on the wall next to the rotary phone and rose a figurative brow at the time.

9:23AM.

_ AM? _ He didn’t wake up in the morning  _ by himself. _

This was turning out to be a weird day, he noted thoughtfully and swung his legs over the side of the bed. It took him a moment to register why it looked so off. It was probably due to the fact that he’d been wearing the sneakers Papyrus gave him for the past three days, but Sans removed them the night before. He carefully wriggled his toe, then curled the rest of them on the same foot. Then he pulled up his leg to inspect the ankle.

There was a noticeable mark where it had healed, lighter than the rest of the bone like it was new, but it was secure and welded shut. He grazed his fingertips against the slight raised surface and gave the foot a careful rotation. It didn’t even hurt anymore, he realised. His grin tugged into more of a grateful smile. He didn’t know Grillby was a healer.

Sans got out of bed and went through a few drawers for some courtesy utensils until he found a fork, and then made his way to the bathroom where he hoped to find a mirror. Fortunately there was one, lit with a row of white bulbs, though the counter was a bit higher than he was used to. Sans had to pull a stool from the wall to get a better look at himself.

He looked better than he’d expected to. Sans surveyed his reflection in the mirror, noting that the stress marks below his eyes had diminished, though he was definitely more scruffed up than when he’d left Snowdin. He grimaced into the mirror as he leaned in close, hollowing out an eye and looking into the reflection to peer into his skull.

He shuddered, finding small bits of tattered garbage and vegetation in the cavity and huffed an aggravated sigh in preparation. If he’d been home, Papyrus would have given him a long and stern lecture about taking better care of himself while helping him with such a task.

Instead, he removed most of the debris himself. The grating of the utensil in his right socket jarred his senses as he dislodged some dried grass and seeds. It would’ve definitely been easier if his mandible wasn’t fused, Sans groused internally yet in full concentration. He let the dislodged pieces fall into the sink after appraising them with a glare.

He was so wrapped up in the chore that Sans didn’t hear the door close in the other room. Soon after, he was caught with a fork in his eye socket and feeling like an idiot. Sans gave the bemused bartender a rationalised gesture to his skull, then leaned forward again, determined, to pick at a stubborn piece of… what  _ was  _ that? More typha pods?

Sans made a disgruntled noise when he realised there was a tangle of more fishing line wound around the pod. He glanced at Grillby through the mirror, who remained leaning against the frame of the door in stunned silence.

“i guess there was a reason i felt like garbage yesterday, eh?” Sans joked. He then dropped the fork into the sink with a clatter and resumed digging around in his orbit for the end of the line with his fingers, finally ending with a merciless tug. He saw Grillby’s flames shudder in a cringe. “don’t worry, buddy. it doesn’t hurt.”

_ “Was not my concern,” _ the fire monster countered hotly. He stiffened after he’d pushed himself away from the door jamb. Then Grillby made a sound of disgust when Sans finally freed the line from his skull in a spray of dried clay and leaves. The typha pods, clay and dried sediment dusted all over the bathroom sink and counter.

“y’know, your heat dried it up real good,” Sans commented as though it’d been the most natural thing in the world. To Grillby, Sans looked entirely unaffected. Sans continued his work, glaring into his skull cavity again and tilting his head from side to side to ensure he’d gotten at least most of it. The last thing he needed was for anything to start  _ sprouting _ in there. “made it easier to get out.”

Grillby turned his face away from the gruesome sight and idly adjusted his glasses --  _ anything _ to keep himself from staring in utmost horror.

_ “Glad to be of assistance.” _

Sans sent him a mirrored grin as he collected the debris from the sink in a half-hearted effort to clean up. He chucked what he could into the wastebasket and ran the tap so he could scrub some of the dirtier marks from his jaw and around his forehead.

“you didn’t wake me?”

The fire monster shifted in place as he watched Sans wash up, scrutinising the water with something like curiosity in his blaze.  _ “You looked peaceful. Besides, I… wanted to do you a favour.” _

Sans stopped and turned his skull to fully regard him, feeling a taunting warmth rekindle beneath his ribs. Water droplets ran down his jaw and he awkwardly wiped them away with the back of his forearm. The look he sent Grillby was inquisitive, to say the least.

Grillby offered him a secretive smirk, then he nodded out of the room as he turned.  _ “After you’ve finished, come see.” _

Well, who could argue with that?

Sans’ thoughts raced as he hastily scrubbed at the more stubborn marks on his skull and fingers. When he was suitably clean, he turned off the water and haphazardly towelled off to meet Grillby in the other room.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but nothing had really changed. In fact, Sans had to stand still in order to figure out just what Grillby had done. His eye lights automatically sought out the familiar cornflower blue of his hoodie and when he found it, Sans couldn’t help but grin with relief. He hesitated for a brief moment at the way the fire monster gestured towards the bed, where it lay neatly folded over the covers.

“what’s this…” Sans murmured, anticipation and disbelief in his tone as he cautiously approached the bed.

No, it…  _ was _ his hoodie. The same yet different, and clean. Old condiment and grease stains had been scrubbed from the worn fabric despite Papyrus’ best efforts to get them out. Sans held it up by the top of the shoulders, taking in each detail. The lining had been brushed out, the thick mats at the nape gone and the fur puffed up so much it looked newer than when he’d first gotten it. Sans’ grin tugged a little more as he pulled it over his head without hesitation, exhaling in appreciation. Even some of the more prominent rips at the seams had been repaired too.

It was still warm from Grillby handling it and Sans’ bones tingled at the nearly intimate touch. He hunched into it, having never felt the warmth of a hot blanket before. It just felt like it cocooned him, comforting and right.

He let himself fall back onto the bed with a satisfied sigh. His hands found the pockets and he tested how soft and puffy they were, no trace of dried vegetation or lint to be felt. It was like being wrapped in sunlight -- or at least, how he would’ve imagined such a sensation to feel like.

“papyrus is gonna be furious,” he chuckled after a few blissful minutes.

_ “You may inform him that nobody out-cleans a city-dwelling Woshua,” _ Grillby replied with a bit of a shy smile. Once he’d seen that the gift had been well-received, he busied himself with the breakfast he’d brought with him.  _ “Are you content?” _

Grinning, Sans slowly sat up to regard him. Now he  _ adored _ his jacket, a collaborative gift from the two people he cared about the most. Honestly, Sans nodded, his soul feeling quite at peace for once. He liked the smile the fire monster offered him, and how it warmed his soul even from the distance between them.

Grillby looked content himself, voicing his appreciation;  _ “Then I am glad.” _

The tone flooded Sans with warmth and he buried his skull into the fuzzy lining of his hood, grin unbearably awkward and flustered from such a kind response.

The morning was leisurely and slow. There was no real rush and they ate breakfast in amiable silence. After relaxing for most of the morning, they checked out of the hotel and set off again, as it was time to head back to Snowdin.

Sans’ elated mood didn’t show on his face, but he felt lighter and better than he had in weeks. If anything, he would’ve guessed it had something to do with both Grillby’s kindness and his own generous buffer.

Fortunately, the CORE’s system was back online; the lights overhead fully operational and their path unbarred and brightly lit. The strange sensation Sans initially felt throughout had disappeared into a small worry. He couldn’t help but idly wonder if the CORE had become unstable during their previous way through. It had been a concern, but he tried not to think about it.

Their conversations were easier through Hotland, insofar as Sans’ previous contributions had been absent. He huffed through the area behind Grillby, who took smaller steps, basking in the heat like it was a walk in the park.

It had never really registered with Sans just how huge Hotland was, when he never needed to traverse the entire quarry himself. He always preferred his shortcuts, but he’d be damned if he took one now with how Grillby reacted when he’d zipped away before. Sans still felt guilty for making him worry, after all.

Grillby started to walk a little slower as they approached the caverns that led into Waterfall. Assuredly, Sans walked ahead of him by a couple steps, pausing to check his shoelaces. It’d be pretty horrible to be carried all the way  _ to _ Snowdin this time and would make for a peculiar scene to explain to Papyrus.

“how’re you holding up?” Sans inquired after they’d travelled through to a large pool that blocked their way.

Someone had erected a makeshift bridge of floating boxes and used vines to secure it -- then promptly left the mess behind for someone else to deal with. Sans carefully tested it to ensure that it was safe, then turned to the fire monster, who gave him an uneasy grimace.

_ “Bringing up panic, I’ll admit,” _ was the careful reply, his body language all but relaxed. Sans shrugged as though to infer to Grillby that everything would be ok.  _ “And you?” _

“weirdly gung-ho,” Sans mused thoughtfully as he scratched the side of his head. “it’s gonna throw paps for a loop, for sure.”

He started across the bridge first, finding it more secure than it looked. Sans hopped on it a couple of times for good measure to prove that it was sound, then turned to give Grillby the all-clear with a thumbs-up.

The walk was long, if only because Grillby’s pace had slowed considerably. Sans knew it was due to his fear of falling into any of the water. He was sympathetic for Grillby and offered him a helping hand or arm whenever the ground underfoot was unsure.

Despite his soul echoing that strange little thump when Grillby held onto him tightly, Sans gave the fire monster reassuring grins and told jokes to him. Overall, he tried to make the experience at least a little better than the previous one.

When they’d finally reached the ‘star’-gazing cavern, they stopped to sit and rest against the wall, legs drawn up and arms hanging over their knees in tandem. They both took a moment to look up at the glittering crystals high above. For once, no one else was around and they could do so in relative peace.

Having lived underground his entire life, Sans had never seen any true constellations apart from charts and old junky magazines. He was one of the many that looked up to see if there were any he could pick out, for the crystals to line up in just the right way that Sans could convince himself they were on the surface. There had even been a deep-seated obsession for awhile where Sans couldn’t get enough of anything remotely ‘spacey’, as Papyrus so appropriately called it.

After a silent reprieve, he finally spoke; “hey, boss?” Grillby looked over from looking ceiling-ward to the skeleton’s face. “call this a bit of a silly question, but humour me.” Grillby smirked a little but remained silent, patiently waiting. “what do you think stars are made of, anyway, if not wishes?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sans saw the paling flames again and turned his head in time to witness Grillby’s pause, then his slitted jagged mouth part with a sudden burst of laughter. Involuntarily, Sans grinned, although he wasn’t sure if he’d made a joke or not to elicit such a reaction.

He watched as Grillby removed his glasses with one hand and covered his eyes, his shoulders shaking with the laughter that would just not pass. Amused with the outburst, Sans joined in, although he didn’t get it when his companion gestured vaguely and pointed to his flaming face.

“you’re gonna have to be more specific than that, bud,” Sans teased as he leaned forward to get a better look at his friend’s expression. “don’t think i like you  _ crackling  _ up at my super-serious and ultra-important question like that.”

Sans found that he  _ did _ though; he’d never seen Grillby so enraptured in laughter like this before and his soul danced giddily in response.

Grillby’s laughter subsided into a low hearty chuckle as he turned his head in his hands. He rested the brunt of his chin in his palm after he replaced his glasses.

_ “You’re not serious…” _ he rebuked kindly, still fighting small interruptions of laughter.

“i was being  _ dead _ serious,” Sans objected, and watched every movement Grillby made. “now i’m just confused.” Regardless, Sans moved so that he could rest his skull into his hands, supported by his knees.

_ “Oh… Suppose I had thought that you were… already aware.” _

Sans sent Grillby a questioning look. “…well, they exist, anyway.”

That only redoubled Grillby’s laughter, a sound so clear and resonant that it echoed down the corridor and was picked up by the bright blue flowers at the end of the room. It took Grillby a few moments more to recover, removing his glasses again to rub at an eye. Sans openly stared at him with a bemused, half-cocked smirk, as Grillby grinned back at him, unable to help himself.

Sans had never seen Grillby cut loose and really crack up about something. It was certainly a refreshing outlook, a polar opposite to the calm demeanour he’d grown accustomed to. Sans found that he appreciated the levity in response to his question if  _ this  _ was the result.

_ “I’m not making fun, honestly-” _ Grillby finally said, all apologies. He replaced his glasses once more and gave in to an amused hum.  _ “It was just… charming.” _

Sans huffed softly, turning his skull away. To hide the bashful grin that he couldn’t keep off his face, Sans flipped his hood up so it obscured his face. “heh. jeez.”

His soul hammered again and he felt warmer than before. How peculiar. Sans hoped it was just embarrassment or Grillby’s residual heat that triggered it. He desperately hoped that it wasn’t an addition to the punchline for his heart’s ever-increasing pranks.

Grillby settled his face on his palm again and watched as the skeleton shrank into his jacket, all flustered. His smile broadened a little more and he leaned closer as though to test his boundaries, the movement catching Sans so off-guard that the skeleton threatened to topple over in surprise.

_ “Can you keep a secret?” _ was the gentle whisper of fire, Grillby’s eyes bright and intense.

Sans quickly pulled down his hood and took mental purchase of what the fire monster could’ve meant by that. There was an impish and almost wildly  _ inappropriate _ way that Grillby’s heat seemed to pervade the space between them. His bones began to rattle softly and Sans tensed, apprehensive, suddenly unsure about everything he knew about the fire monster.

Grillby leaned against the wall and out of Sans’ personal space as though to give him a break. Sans appreciated it, drawing in a slow breath when Grillby tilted his fiery head up, his flames licking the moisture from the wall and air above him with pops and snaps.

_ “You’ve made me self-conscious, friend. Should like to think that you’d be familiar with a star’s incandescence by now.” _

Sans dwelled on it for longer than he maybe should’ve, feeling oddly disappointed in himself despite Grillby’s shy grin. That is, until it finally clicked and Sans smirked to himself, a giddy little excitement flooding into him.

Grillby’s flames arranged peculiarly again, paler and with a gentle flutter of yellow and orange, but it was very bright. Sans watched them in stunned silence until Grillby moved as if uncomfortable, a small yet uneasy smile on his face. Sans caught the way the fire monster chanced a sidelong glance at him then looked back to the glowing crystals above.

“heh. always knew i took a shining to you for a reason, grillbz,” Sans finally murmured, meaning it with his entire heart and soul, even though he’d turned his face away in a gamble.

The flames burned a little brighter, more golden with a touch of white, and Sans curiously looked back, drawn to the colours. It wasn’t anything that he’d ever really seen before. Grillby half-cowered behind his hand, the crack of a smile barely hidden by his fingers. The fire monster chuckled despite himself.

Sans stared, curious and amazed by the flames’ arrangement and Grillby’s charming nature. He then let out a quiet chuckle and hid his skull against the fuzzy lining of his jacket, sighing softly. Sans didn’t know what to make of the shift in fire colour. It wasn’t as though Grillby was exhausted, but it was bright and almost erratic. Sans wondered if maybe it was something Grillby inadvertently did whilst embarrassed or flustered.

It was definitely something he’d never seen the fire monster do before.

Eventually, it was time to continue. While the bridge seeds were reset on the way back, the gap was small enough for the two to hop over near the southernmost tip of the main landmass. They took their time, somehow words just falling silent as Sans’ last comment resonated in his mind.

If truth be told, Sans had really taken to Grillby. It was no doubt a deep-rooted affection for his long-time friend, though Sans wasn’t sure just when it had started. He supposed that he’d always liked Grillby in one way or another.

And with that, Sans realised he was silently admitting to himself that there was no getting away from this feeling. He couldn’t bury it, couldn’t let it out. He’d trapped himself in a sappy state of yearning, where he could never have what he wanted or things would change forever.

It was both heart-wrenching and glorious in its own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [framegirl2012](https://www.deviantart.com/farmgirl2012/art/PFW-Grillby-chuckle-796982597) drew a cute Grillby for this chapter on dA! :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus is full of brotherly concern.

The path back to Snowdin led them up to Sans’ sentry station, where Papyrus was covering for him. Sans caught him drumming his gloved fingers against the desk of the station, poured over a thick book and hunched with barely pent-up, agitated boredom. Papyrus all but jumped off the stool he was sitting on when the pair got close enough to the glade separating the path back to Snowdin.

Sans knew damn well that he couldn’t use a shortcut with Papyrus right there; at least not without a whole lot of explaining, and there weren’t any more bridge seeds to form a crossing. The only saving grace was that there weren’t any boulders falling that afternoon, but the area was slick with black ice and Sans could feel the stark chill from the other side of the cavern.

Peculiar, since he hadn’t noticed it before. Perhaps he’d gotten too used to Hotland, or a certain heat in general…

“hey, bro, look lively!” he called across the gap to where Papyrus met up with him, who crossed his arms defiantly.

“SANS! THANK GOD YOU’RE BACK!” Papyrus belted over the clamour of rushing water. Sans grinned over at him, giving a relaxed shrug and wink.

“looks like we’re stuck again,” he murmured to Grillby, who carefully eyed the deep rushing waters nearby. Sans lowered the register of his voice; “you distract him. tell him to go to storage and get a toboggan or something. then when he’s gone, i’ll just…  _ zoop _ us over there.”

_ “ _ … _ Zoop?” _ Well, by the look Grillby gave Sans, he got the idea.

Grillby fixed him with a disapproving glare, to which Sans just passively shrugged. He watched his brother prowl around the opposite side of the bank to puzzle out a solution, mumbling all the while.

The longer they idled, the more steam wisped off the fire monster, who rigidly called out to Papyrus to offer Sans’ idea. Pumped for direction, Papyrus whirled on the spot and trotted off in a hurry.

Once out of view, Sans focused on the magic that coursed through his body. It no longer felt raw and frayed and he felt like a new monster -- even with the long walk from New Home. He sent an innocent smile to Grillby as he held out his hand, waiting for a fissure to open up nearby. Sans’ soul then did a happy little skip when Grillby slipped his hand into his and he led the fire monster backward through the crack in reality.

It wasn’t as much of a drain on Sans as it first was. It still expended a decent amount of energy as opposed to when Sans took a shortcut alone, but he felt ok. Maybe it was the buffer, or the generous amount of rest he had. Regardless, when they stepped out in front of Sans’ sentry post, Sans was able to restrain the soft breath of exertion when Grillby turned to look at him, still gripping his hand.

He looked down at their joined hands for a moment. Grillby seemed to realise the same, hesitance and embarrassment evident as he let go with a pale flicker. The skeleton tilted his head a bit at the peculiarity. He wondered if this time if it was an uncomfortable reflex the bartender had.

He’d have to remember that for the future. After all, he didn’t want to step on any toes.

Sans meandered around to the back of the station and stole his brother’s seat as he flipped through a few pages in the manual. As they waited for Papyrus to return, he thumbed through it; it was an advanced puzzle and entrapment catalogue, one his brother had been ruthlessly marking up the pages with his own ideas and equations, or ‘fixing’ the ones in the book.

He hummed quietly, not even lifting his gaze when he heard the rush of wood sliding on hard earth and his brother’s thundering footfalls.

A sudden skid to a stop marked Papyrus’ arrival and Sans lifted his head to regard him. Now upon closer inspection, Sans felt a twinge of guilt for making him run all the way. It’s not like he had any choice in the matter, since his brother had always been active enough for the both of them.

However, over seventy-two hours’ worth of four-shift days and his brother looked… well,  _ ragged _ . He didn’t have the luxury of Sans’ shortcuts after all, and Sans couldn’t help but envision his brother sprinting full force across the Underground to make his three o’clock shift in Hotland after finishing in Waterfall at the same time. He guiltily grinned up at him as Papyrus let the toboggan fall beside the booth and sat down against the wall to catch his breath.

“thanks, bro. that’ll help loads with the crates,” Sans said appreciatively as he started to rummage through his station.

“WHAT WAS-” Papyrus stopped as it then dawned on him that Sans was on the same side as him. He looked over and saw Grillby a short distance away, who gave him a shy wave. “DID YOU JUST USE MAGIC?”

“how else could we cross?” Sans responded to his brother’s suspicious tone with a noncommittal shrug, still searching. “what, no snacks? don’t tell me the great and mighty papyrus deserted his station for even one moment to take a  _ lunch break? _ ”

He was only teasing, inching under his brother’s figurative skin to get a rise out of him. It’d been awhile and he’d missed it. Like he was the one to talk, with Sans having been so ill-prepared for the journey to New Home. He hoped that his brother wouldn’t put two and two together -- at least, not immediately.

True to form, Papyrus bristled defensively and vaulted himself to his feet to stomp over and berate him. Meanwhile, Grillby smirked at the brotherly quarrel and approached the dimensional box to start to unpack.

Papyrus studied his brother for a moment. Everything about how Sans carried himself to even his  _ clothes _ seemed off. Sans grinned up at him from his station, then paused to look down and turn a page in the book Papyrus had previously been engrossed in.

“YOU REALLY ARE… OK?” Papyrus said quietly as he leaned over the station, both gloved hands braced against the edge of the counter top. He saw the pleasant look vanish from his brother’s eyes and the lights inside them nervously flick in Grillby’s direction, whom had started to unload stock without him.

Papyrus’ gaze never left him. Sans’ eye movements had been so slight yet so clear, when Sans was normally much more careful not to give away something that he took care to hide.

His hoodie was  _ spotless, _ far cleaner than  _ he’d _ ever gotten it. Additionally, Sans’ skull and phalanges were scrubbed white as though he’d bothered to take care of himself. His eye sockets were less hollowed and distressed, his posture more relaxed than he’d been in months. Sans was  _ rested, _ and if Papyrus had peeked then, he would’ve seen the solid twelve points his older brother sported and a subtle,  _ healthy, _ cyan glow around his soul.

So everything boiled down in his mind that something  _ had _ happened, and Sans took steps to hide it from him. Papyrus’ eyes narrowed suspiciously and he patiently drummed his fingers on the wooden counter just as Sans calmly looked back.

“never better, bro,” came the predictable reply.

Papyrus leaned forward, his glare scrutinising and he saw again, the faint flick of Sans avoiding him in favour of looking into the fire monster’s direction. Yes, something had  _ definitely _ happened, and that something had to do with that grease-peddling bartender!

“ARE YOU GOING TO TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED, SANS?” Papyrus’ voice dropped a little more and he kept his tone even and mellow with just a hint of concern.

Sans uncomfortably shifted on the stool and only moved to scratch at his jaw. Papyrus knew the nervous tic. He knew that his brother was going to evade him and he’d more than likely try to change the subject.

“not now, pap.” There it was! He could always detect it.

_ “YES _ ‘NOW’, BROTHER.”

“i’m fine.”

“OF COURSE YOU ARE!! YOU ALWAYS SAY THAT! BUT RIGHT NOW I NEED FOR YOU TO BE A LESS NEEDLESSLY STUBBORN BROTHER FOR ONCE,” Papyrus interjected, though he mercifully kept his voice down. “I DON’T SEE YOU FOR DAYS WITH ONLY A HANDFUL OF CALLS -- THE FIRST ONE RATHER WORRYING, BY THE WAY -- AND IT BRINGS UP A LOT OF QUESTIONS! THESE ARE NOT THE KINDS OF PUZZLES I LIKE PARTAKING IN, SANS!”

Sans’ eye lights darted towards the fire monster again, this time his grin dropped in response to his brother’s lecture before he brought his attention back to Papyrus.

Helplessly, he started; “i know you told me to take it easy-”

“-AND YOU DIDN’T! USED SO MUCH MAGIC YOU  _ PASSED OUT  _ THAT  _ HE  _ CALLED ME IN A PANIC-”

Sans froze, eye lights seized to the size of pinpricks. He stared at his brother for a beat, then his body automatically moved on its own and vaulted up right off the stool. Yet Sans forced himself to stay still, no matter how badly his body wanted to shake, no matter how much he wanted to flee to escape further scrutiny. This wasn’t the time to talk about this. This wasn’t even the  _ place _ for them to have this conversation, right in the open where anyone --  _ especially Grillby _ \-- could overhear.

Papyrus had stopped, but he still leaned over the counter to look him straight in the face, his expression a melange of austerity and concern.

Sans remained stock-still, unable to think for a moment. All his worries ground in his head, chewing it up and jamming any further escape attempts. This wasn’t the best time to have this kind of heart-to-heart chat, even if his brother was concerned. Grillby was  _ right there. _ He couldn’t chance even the slightest possibility that he didn’t know about his low health.

It took everything in him, Sans’ chest shuddering as he leaned forward in turn. He whispered, his voice almost strained with the two insistent words; “i’m.  _ fine.” _

It looked like Papyrus wasn’t about to drop it, so Sans flung out his arms in frustration, every inch of him burning defensively. Fed up with the coddling, he hissed, “just  _ check, _ then.”

Grillby stopped what he was doing to look over, their harsh whispers grating and echoing until he very clearly heard an upset tone. Like magnetism, he knew who it was and saw in time for Sans to hop up and, aggravated, spread his arms as though for Papyrus to see for himself.

_ ‘One’s all he’s got’ _ , he recalled Papyrus’ words as a Check was obviously performed on Sans. Ashamed, the fire monster turned his head from them when Papyrus gasped as though astonished -- or scandalised. Grillby wasn’t quite sure.

There’d been no internal joke for once, but Papyrus’ internal view caught a surprising number.

> **[ * 12 HP ]**

Elated, Papyrus let out a triumphant laugh as though he’d expected otherwise. It’d been a tense few moments for Sans as he was Checked, never quite at ease with the intrusion. He was grateful that there’d been no indication of his most recent magic usage on his soul; with any other monster, it would’ve registered negatively by three points.

Sans’ shoulders slumped with his brother’s reaction, and he was about to sit back down when Papyrus rounded the station and threw his arms around his head, pulling Sans into a rough embrace.

Sans chuckled despite himself, making an awkward attempt to outmanoeuvre the display of affection before an audience and he discreetly pointed to Grillby, who was loading the toboggan with heavy crates. He hoped that the fire monster hadn’t taken his invitation as well, but it appeared that Grillby was too preoccupied with his stock to pay any attention to their exchange. That was a relief.

“now that that’s over, do you mind giving us a hand?”

With Papyrus’ enthusiastic assistance, Sans and Grillby were able to load more than half the freight onto the toboggan to pull into the fresh powdery snow of their hometown. The sharp scent of winter and  _ home _ reached Sans’ senses and he sighed appreciatively, giving his friend a bashful smile when Grillby looked over.

At the end of their first trip, Sans went back alone with the sled to fetch the rest; Grillby stayed behind to unload into the storage shed behind the bar. Papyrus had already gone back to his post, having cited that he needed to be on high alert should the captain of the Royal Guard stop by. He didn’t want to be mistaken for Sans, after all.

“IT OCCURS TO ME THAT YOU HAVEN’T AT ALL EXPLAINED WHAT HAPPENED IN WATERFALL YET, BROTHER,” Papyrus murmured with a hint of disapproval.

He said it without looking up from his book as Sans passed him on his way to the item box. Sans looked over his shoulder, his grin dropping just a bit as he hoisted the lid of the box open to pull out more waiting crates.

“went fishing.” There. It wasn’t a lie, and it wasn’t  _ not _ the truth either. He grinned despite himself and grunted with effort as a rather noisy box was thrown up next, filled with clinking bottles. Out of the corner of his eye, Papyrus leaned out over the front of the station to watch him.

“THAT SEEMS… INNOCUOUS ENOUGH. BUT! IT’S YOU. I  _ KNOW _ YOU’RE DOWN-PLAYING WHAT REALLY HAPPENED!”

Sans rolled his eye lights as he turned to face his brother with a crate in his hands. Then he set it down on the wooden toboggan with a bit more force than what was probably necessary. Sans recognised his reaction as a bit more peevish than he wanted to let on and corrected himself, uncomfortably gesturing to beckon Papyrus over.

In a rush of footsteps, Papyrus sprinted up to him expectantly, his chest puffed out and body drawn up straight like a bow.

“ok, well. you can’t be looking like that,” Sans groused and moved his hands into his pockets. Papyrus deflated somewhat -- a feat, considering his confident and overzealous nature. It looked as though it took every bit of Papyrus not to launch a volley of questions at Sans; demanding who, what, when, how, and  _ why. _

“so, yeah… i messed up.” Papyrus’ shoulders slumped in disappointment at his brother’s lacklustre beginning. Sans chuckled softly and hopped onto a crate to sit down. “ok, but don’t freak out. if i hear any echo flowers harpin’ on ‘cause you repeat everything i say-”

“OH, OUT WITH IT!”

“heh…” Sans hunched his jaw into the fur of his hood’s lining, taking comfort in the feel of it. “i kinda… tripped. lost my leg… and it kinda wound up at the dump.”

He shot a glance at his brother, who stared him down with incredulity. In addition to that, it was possible that Papyrus figured out which leg just by looking at him. Sans commended him; generally there would’ve been an outburst of some kind, but Papyrus kept quiet, as though puzzling something out. Hopefully, he didn’t draw a connection between the laces and Sans’ stumble, though.

Knowing Papyrus, it wouldn’t be long before his little brother put two and two together to know he’d overdone it.

“i used magic to avoid water,” Sans evasively added, dancing around the subject of  _ what kind _ of magic.

“YOU’RE RATHER PROFICIENT AT BLUE…” Papyrus interjected at his brother’s pause, then visibly grimaced at Sans’ reproachful look. “I MEAN…” There, he was being quieter now.

“waterfall’s a big place, ‘lil bro,” Sans muttered excusingly. “lots of water. and i dunno if you’ve noticed, but grillbz is made of fire.” He grinned at Papyrus’ scathing look and waved his hand at him dismissively.

“SO YOU FLOATED AROUND ON ONE LEG, AND-”

Sans felt the warmth return to the spot beneath his ribs and he slouched further into his hoodie, staying quiet, and rather pointedly ignored his brother’s look. It took Papyrus only a moment to realise that his brother’s discomfort was for an entirely different reason -- and that he could very clearly see a subtle glow peek out from under Sans’ collar.

Oh. Well,  _ that _ certainly was different. Much different than the night with the sleepover.

“I SEE! SO HE CARRIED YOU.” The glow brightened considerably and Papyrus cocked his head to one side, interest making his grin brighter. “AND YOU USED MAGIC UP TO THE POINT THAT YOU IGNORED YOUR BODY’S SIGNALS? PUSHED YOURSELF BEYOND YOUR LIMITS, DID YOU? I WOULDN’T HAVE THOUGHT YOU’D NEGLECTED TO BRING ANY EMERGENCY PROVISIONS, NOR FORGET YOUR WALLET AT HOME, FOR THAT MATTER…” He sighed in exasperation and shook his skull, a hand finding its usual place at his hip.

Papyrus decided that, for once, he wouldn’t cut into his brother quite as much about this kind of thing. At least, not now, when Sans looked at him like he was about to scream. After all, he was a great brother, as was Sans -- as aggravating as he was. And for whatever reason, Sans was hiding something that was a lot more personal than what Papyrus had initially thought.

While Papyrus came off as a bonehead to many, he knew quite a bit about the world around him. But then at the same time, there were still things he had to rush to the old turtle about.

This would probably be one of those times, he gathered.

He watched as Sans dumbly nodded and reached for his sternum, clutching the cornflower blue hoodie reflexively.

“REALLY, SANS! I PICK YOU UP ALL THE TIME. IT’S HARDLY WORTH MENTIONING AT THIS POINT.” He saw the exaggerated pained expression Sans sent him and Papyrus frowned. “OH, KNOCK THAT OFF! HE… WASN’T RUDE ABOUT IT, WAS HE?” If he had to be honest, Papyrus didn’t know a whole lot about the bartender either, now that he thought about it…

Sans seemed to consider it for a moment, then eventually shrugged in that irritating and noncommittal way of his. “didn’t complain once,” he admitted as though the thought was a revelation. Sans sighed, the action small yet heavy. “sorry. i checked out just before the end of waterfall. he carried me the rest of the way, i guess.”

Papyrus stood quietly for a half a beat as though turning over the thought in his head. He stroked at his jaw with one hand and nodded to himself.

“so what did you tell him, papyrus?”

“NYEH-?” Papyrus turned to regard his brother, who looked much more defeated than usual. His mind raced, recollecting the phone conversation with the fire monster before Papyrus answered candidly; “WELL OF COURSE HE WAS WORRIED!! SO I, PAPYRUS, HAD TO CONSOLE HIM!”

“does he know?”

“KNOW  _ WHAT?” _

Sans seemed to wither even more and Papyrus understood immediately. He fidgeted, gloved fingers plucking at the sleeves. While technically he lied quite a bit to Sans, they were all silly and insignificant. It’d be a rotten thing to do so now, especially to his brother, whom Papyrus cared about very much. But it always struck him that Sans was being overly self-conscious about other monsters finding out about something as silly as his HP. He  _ did _ understand, all things considered…

“NO,” he said firmly, then watched as Sans visibly relaxed with a relieved huff. This was too difficult. No, he supposed he could, just this one time, come clean, “BUT, MAYBE… KIND OF? NOW, HOLD ON-” He saw the panic and distress suddenly flare in his brother’s eyes, so Papyrus gently waved at him to remain seated. “ALLOW ME TO EXPLAIN!”

Sans’ voice was quiet, wavering in disbelief; “you  _ told  _ him..?”

“SANS, I SAID  _ KIND OF! _ HE KNEW THAT AT THE TIME, YOU HAD ‘ONE’. HE TOLD  _ ME, _ BECAUSE NATURALLY HE FELT SO GUILTY THAT HE THOUGHT YOU HAD FALLEN DOWN!” Papyrus spoke quickly and candidly, leaning over his brother with a pleasant, if not careful smile. It was a stark contrast to the horror Sans felt culminating inside of his soul at the very thought of being found out. “HE PROBABLY THOUGHT IT WAS  _ HIS _ FAULT! HE WAS SO DISTRESSED -- AND THAT I TOLD HIM, YES. BUT! THAT YOU WOULD BE BETTER AFTER SOME REST. SO, HOW HE INTERPRETED THAT IS UP TO HIM!”

Somehow Papyrus’ explanation made fear redouble within Sans’ soul. Sans cowered where he sat, hands buried in his pockets as he restlessly pulled at the seams. He stayed quiet as guilt joined in on the action, his heart aching and his mind skimming through memories of the journey.

What if all those moments had been out of pity? What if Grillby’s kindness hadn’t been kindness at all?

_ What if- _

His soul pinched, hurt --  _ betrayed. _

He let out a bitter laugh, cut off as soon as it was released as Sans moved to stand. “that’s what you told him, huh?” His mind raced and Sans knew deep down that he couldn’t yell at Papyrus for trying to calm Grillby down in his time of need.

Grillby had been that concerned for him that… he’d Checked him, maybe?

Something twinged inside and Sans laughed again, defensively. He slid off the edge of the crate and started to unload the dimensional box again, slowly this time. He paused when he realised that Papyrus was staring at him, his expression twisted in guilt so much that he had that kicked puppy look.

Grimacing, Sans forced himself to pay attention to the task at hand. “i’m not mad, bro,” Sans murmured after a beat of silence, then he shifted the crate in his hands. “he was that worried, huh?”

Papyrus took the crate from him and loaded it onto the toboggan. “WELL… HE’S THE QUIET TYPE, RIGHT? IT WAS SO BIZARRE! TO HEAR HIM SO PANICKED, THAT I… I FELT BAD FOR HIM? IMAGINE IF OUR ROLES WERE REVERSED, DEAR BROTHER. AND YOU HAD TO CONSOLE SOMEONE WHO CARED FOR ME, THAT I WASN’T DYING? WHEN THEY THOUGHT THAT I WAS?”

Sans considered it for awhile in silence, still moving to unload the boxes. He didn’t like the casual way that his brother brought up his own demise, even if it was hypothetical. At least in this timeline, so far.

_ Don’t think about that. _

“AND HE… JUST MAYBE, FELT RESPONSIBLE?”

“i messed up,” Sans agreed with a soft sigh. He turned to face his brother, who offered him an uneasy smile -- like Papyrus was afraid that he had sincerely messed up. “i know you meant well. i just… i panicked, y’know? i don’t want anything to change between us like that.”

“WELL! HAS HE TREATED YOU ANY DIFFERENTLY SINCE THEN?”

Sans shifted his weight to one side, his negativity attempting to unearth some glimmer of hope from what his mind had already twisted. He examined everything that had transpired between him and the fire monster once more, the brief flashes of laughter and light-heartedness in his memory blemishing his pessimism.

Then, with a bit of a rueful grin, Sans shook his head. Quietly, he decided, “yeah… no, he hasn’t.”

Papyrus smiled a little easier, then grabbed the next crate from his brother. “THEN! I SUBMIT TO YOU, THAT YOU’RE WORRYING OVER ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! AS USUAL.”

God, Sans hoped that he was right.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * You feel a warm, fuzzy feeling throughout your entire being.

The days that followed their return were uneventful. Sans’ dreams were the same, insofar as they were nonexistent. Sans made up the time spent away from the Ruins’ outpost by visiting it daily and working double shifts at Waterfall. It was like any other day before the journey, with one major difference.

He hadn’t been to Grillby’s since he’d helped him unload the stock.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t want to go; Sans just feared what the fire monster would have to say. Grillby would have questions and Sans knew he wouldn’t be able to dodge them forever.

So he stayed away, opting for Papyrus’ home cooked meals instead; even though, if he was honest with himself, they seemed worse than usual. Sans had even evaded Grillby’s entirely, using the igloo to bypass the cosy atmosphere when he could or even just taking one of his shortcuts on one of his better days.

It’d been eight days. Eight long days since Sans last saw his friend, more since his last ketchup fix, and he was beginning to feel bitter about it. He busied himself around the entrance to the Ruins, knocking against the looming doors and sizing up the rock face that blocked off the area to the locals.

A thick heap of fresh snow had fallen overnight, covering his and Papyrus’ footprints from earlier that week. Even then, the snow still fell from the ceiling of the mountain far above, littering the town and surrounding forest in a haze of mist and white.

Sans knocked again before ultimately deciding to go back to his post. A hollow knock, thudding in the forest all alone. It was bittersweet.

Before everything had shook down, he actually enjoyed his time with Grillby. Not only did Sans miss his company, but everything seemed  _ chillier. _ It wasn’t like a skeleton could ever feel the capacity for either heat or cold, though.

Admittedly, this confounded him.

At his post, Sans actually  _ shivered, _ bones rattling in a subtle way that he just couldn’t shake no matter how hard he tried to stop it. It was beyond bizarre. Not even rubbing his hands together (as he’d witnessed fleshy monsters do), or huddling his skull into his jacket did Sans any good to stave off the deep freeze that he felt.

Thinking about the fire monster just made him hurt. He’d long since come to terms that his little infatuation with Grillby was silly and it was likely that it’d never work out. Especially since denying himself that bit of happiness was appropriate as far as the timelines were concerned.

That and ruining a perfectly good friendship over such baseless and selfish desires was just tawdry at best. Sans groaned awkwardly into his arms, hunched over the counter of the station. The chill settled into him just as much as he’d been used to the warmth. Disgruntled, Sans flipped his hood over his skull.

Maybe he should just take a nap.

However cold he ‘felt’, Sans ultimately ended up falling asleep. The nap was eventually cut short when the sound of unfamiliar footsteps approached and Sans reopened his eyes, then moved to lift his skull. He trembled more than before, the subtle clatter of bones together unmistakable as the snow fell thickly around him, insulating the sound.

He dusted snow off his clothes and the counter when his visitor finally came into view from between the dense thicket. Sans felt the intense urge to teleport away, but he managed to repress the feeling. Instead, he sat upright on his stool as a small flicker of warmth kindled inside of him at Grillby’s arrival. At the same time, Sans eyed the fire monster warily. It wasn’t like the fire monster to go into the forest at all.

Dressed in a long sharp overcoat and a thickly wrapped green scarf, Sans couldn’t tell if it was because of the weather or simply because Grillby was a stylish person in general. As he approached, Sans tapped his fingertips against the desktop, agitated, realising that Grillby hid something behind his back.

Sans offered him a nervous smile as a greeting. “oh. heya, stranger.”

The fire monster strolled up to the station, his face once more a mask of flame and none of the peculiar lightness that he’d shown that day in Waterfall’s caverns. For some reason, Sans felt his heart sink, not really knowing the reason why.

_ “If I didn’t know any better… would say you were taking steps to avoid me, friend.” _ Grillby’s voice was measured and collected, but Sans saw the genuine, kind smile. With the fire monster’s subtle jab, Sans couldn’t help but inwardly cringe. The smile was all gentleness and reassurance, just like its owner. Sans couldn’t help but indulge returning one of his own, a little uneasily.

“nah, just been working overtime.” His bones still clattered as he lied through his teeth. He felt silly for it. “you came out all this way just to say that?”

The bartender shifted his weight to one side, betraying his own restlessness.  _ “…Wanted to give you something earlier. To show my appreciation. However… you were never around.” _

“aw, grillbz. i told ya. you don’t gotta do that-”

_ “Nevertheless,” _ the fire monster interrupted, one hand raised as though to stave off any further protest. He set a small green bag atop of the counter and gestured, the motion hypnotically fluid.  _ “I would like to express my… deepest gratitude.” _

Sans stared at Grillby for a moment, then his eye lights flitted down to the bag. Grillby’s voice made that tensile little warmth inside of him bloom with affection and, awkwardly, Sans grinned despite himself. Sans found himself at a loss for words when he carefully pulled the gift from it: a stout but heavy lavender decanter bottle with chiselled sides to make it look like an intricate web. Sans knew the design immediately and looked up sharply, dumbfounded and put on the spot.

_ “Spider Cider, correct? Did I misremember?” _

Sans’ grin tugged a little more, genuinely touched. It actually made a small glimmer of happiness stir in his soul that Grillby had remembered the passing thought during their time in New Home. But seeing as Muffet had moved elsewhere, he couldn’t see how the fire monster had obtained such an elusive liquor. Sans had attempted to find it shortly after moving to Snowdin but after years of fruitless searching, he’d simply given up.

“how?”

Grillby motioned a single finger to his face, as though sharing a secret between just the two of them. Sans noted the lack of gloves with a disruptive abruptness, unable to peel his eye lights away from the steady glow of Grillby’s hands.

_ “A bartender always saves his private reserves for… someone special.” _

Modestly, Sans shrank down. His soul had stayed relatively sombre the week over since he’d been absent from his friend’s company. Of course, it resounded with a clear thrum behind his ribs at the words echoing in his skull. Like a bell, like a drum, anything that could be struck by stupid infatuation to make him flustered on the spot. It rang loud and clear in his head.

Unable to form a cohesive train of thought, Sans carefully tucked the glass bottle back into the bag, grinning like a damned fool.

“that’s, uh… very thoughtful of you,” he finally said, unable to properly express his gratitude. God, he felt stupid if that’s all he could say.

Grillby saw his reaction, knowing full well how much Sans liked it. The slit of his mouth curled into a smile of his own, just visible through the mask of fire. Grillby leaned forward as he noted the subtle clattering the skeleton continued to make, his head’s flames just barely caressing the shelter’s rooftop.

_ “Still rattling, I see,” _ he softly teased.

Sans gave in to an embarrassed laugh, his chest feeling tight in response. He resisted the urge to rub at his ribs, resorting to drumming his fingers on the desk again. Then he abruptly stopped, all too aware of how he must look.

“yeah… maybe i got too used to your company. uh, or hotland, i guess…”

Grillby tilted his head slightly in askance, curiosity burning in his eyes.  _ “Do skeletons normally feel the cold?” _

Sans shrugged slightly, unsure how to answer the question. “sure as hell can feel heat lately, though,” he muttered more to himself, just barely above a whisper.

At Grillby’s inquisitive hum, Sans snickered at the private joke as his fingertips itched to nervously drum again. But he resisted, instead attempting to quell the shivering sensation that had settled into his bones.

He was so caught up with trying to repress his actions that Sans was caught off guard by Grillby’s movement. Both of his fiery hands grasped his own and Sans stared down at them, dumbfounded. The small gentle wisps of flame then started to spread a flooding heat throughout his finger bones and into his marrow, slowly travelling up his hands.

Before he could get a handle on himself, Sans exhaled a sharp and startled breath, the heat inching up his metacarpals, his wrist bones and arms. It seeped throughout his body, encircling him like a comforting embrace.

He melted as the feeling passed into him and Sans sunk against the counter top with an appreciative groan. The heat lingered even after Grillby released his hands. Small wafts of steam coiled off his exposed bones and skull in the chilly air.

Experimentally, Sans exhaled. A pronounced steamy breath escaped his teeth and nasal aperture with the temperature change and he chuckled despite himself.

Seemingly pleased with his work, the fire monster leaned over the counter again. His smile had changed into something more. If Sans didn’t know any better, it looked more amused than usual, like an alluring smirk.

_ “Better?” _

Sans slouched a little more as the heat continued to travel through his bones and all the way down his spine, filling every vertebrae with warmth. He had to fight what would’ve been an embarrassing noise and his toes curled in his shoes as the heat found its way further south. He huffed a little softly, moving inwards on himself to revel in the warmth.

“got me all hot… hot under the collar, here.”

The will to fight was sapped from Sans if  _ this _ was the reward for indulging his desires. Something at the back of his mind nagged at him but he pushed the thought away, for once just wanting to enjoy the moment without guilt.

_ “Should make the remainder of your shift a little more… pleasant, at least,” _ Grillby remarked carefully. He rather enjoyed the way Sans looked so content by the touch of his flames.

As the skeleton wasn’t much for conversation nor intelligible words after that, Grillby left him there. He resisted the urge to reach for Sans’ skull but hung around a little closer, testing his boundaries.

_ “Well, then… Until later.” _ And then he gave a wave goodbye after Sans merely nodded, the ache in his chest soothed beyond all measure of a doubt.

Sans found that he stayed like that for quite awhile; hours passed in silence as he relished the feeling that eventually started to fade. His bones had cooled in the wintry air, but snowflakes drifting down still melted before they could land on him. He hummed appreciatively, the unmistakable feeling of warm marrow giving him such a throbbing and comfortable ache that he didn’t care to move from.

He had barely budged since Grillby parted, almost drunk on the immeasurably befuddling heat that lingered around his soul like a lingering hug. Papyrus approached him like clockwork, brandishing a small purse with the monster kingdom’s insignia. Sans hadn’t even seen him cross the field.

“SANS, YOU LAZY BONES! YOU MISSED UNDYNE AND I FIND YOU HERE, ONLY FOR YOU TO BE… OH.” Papyrus stopped and looked at him, perplexed.

Sans didn’t get up, wasn’t asleep, and had a peculiar expression on his face. His arms were stretched out in front of him on the desk and his skull was settled upon them. Papyrus could very distinctly see the pulsing glow of his soul through Sans’ hoodie.

Papyrus was confused. He’d never seen Sans like this before. He strolled over with purpose, setting his brother’s pay next to his arm and he leaned over him. He watched as his brother’s eye lights slowly dragged up from staring off into the trees, daydreaming no less.

“WHATEVER IS THE MATTER, BROTHER?” Papyrus inquired, moving to look Sans directly in the face. “YOU’RE ACTING RATHER… WEIRD LATELY??”

“weird?”

“OK, FINE.  _ WEIRDER. _ ARE YOU ILL? …INJURED?”

Sans gave in to a slight shrug and felt the wave of heat subside, escaping his ribs with the motion. He sighed softly, shaking his skull. Sans supposed that he’d been acting strangely, if outright refusing Papyrus’ routine checkups on him the past week was anything to go by. Everything else had been more or less the same.

“THEN WHAT IS IT, SANS? YOU’VE BEEN QUIETER… AND HIDING MORE THAN USUAL-ER.” Papyrus waited patiently for an answer and watched his brother’s face for any hint as to what might be bothering Sans. “DID YOU SEE THE BARTENDER?” Sans shrunk down but didn’t look at him. Papyrus doubled down. “I SENT HIM OVER… DID YOU TWO TALK?”

“a bit.”

“A BIT? SANS, PLEASE. YOU’VE BEEN ACTING STRANGELY EVER SINCE YOU RETURNED. NAPPING ALL NIGHT. RISING EARLY. WORKING… AVOIDING THAT GREASE-TRAP?”

“i’m not avoiding it. i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“OH, COME OFF IT! YOU PRACTICALLY LIVE THERE! DON’T TRY TO TELL ME OTHERWISE. NOT TO MENTION SOMETHING ELSE THAT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE NOTICED LATELY-”

Sans moved his skull to the side so he could better look up at his brother. He couldn’t quite decipher the look he got from Papyrus, so he waited. The echoing pulse behind his ribs thumped at the eventual loss of heat as it grew chiller, as though disappointed.

“HOW DO I SAY THIS…” his brother deliberated, moving to scratch at his jaw. Sans reluctantly pulled himself off the counter and crossed his arms over the wood to guard himself from the building cold. “BROTHER, I COULD NOT HELP BUT NOTICE YOUR SOUL-”

Sans couldn’t hide the flinch.

“-AND, WHILE I MIGHT NOT BE VERSED IN SUCH EMOTION, AS GREAT AS I AM, IT OCCURS TO ME THAT YOU MIGHT HAVE WAXED SACCHARINE FOR A CERTAIN… SPECIAL SOMEONE?” Papyrus’ eyes narrowed in suspicion when he saw his brother’s fingers grasp over his hoodie where his soul hid underneath, as though he hadn’t considered it  _ could _ be seen. “ROMANTICALLY, I MEAN.”

“i.. i know what you mean, pap-” Sans interrupted indignantly. His voice was low and his eye lights scanned the thicket leading from his post to town.

“HONESTLY, SANS! YOU SURE SEEM ANTSY!! YOU’RE BLUSHING LIKE THE NUMBER ONE NOSE-NUZZLE CHAMPS OF ALL TIME!”

“what?? c-c’mon, keep your voice down. and stop saying dumb things.”

Papyrus deemed to consider it for a moment before he conceded, then he knelt in front of the station so he was more or less eye to eye with his older brother.

“SO… IF YOU WANT ME TO BE QUIETER, THIS MUST SURELY MEAN THAT THEY LIVE IN SNOWDIN!” He watched Sans shift on the stool, his gaze still avoidant. The blue pulse under his shirt grew a little more and nervously, Sans picked at his zipper toggle. “SANS, YOU MUST CONFIDE IN ME, AS YOUR BROTHER. TELL ME THE NAME OF THE PERSON THAT STOLE YOUR AFFECTION!!”

“absolutely not. you’re bad at keeping secrets, papyrus,” Sans groused, embarrassed to the point where he visibly started to shrink into his hoodie as a means of escape. “also, i’m not. and ‘sides, it’s uh… kinda one-sided, i guess,” he relented, his resolve crumbling quickly under Papyrus’ inquisitive glower.

Papyrus’ shoulders slumped in disappointment, not at all thrilled with the explanation, but at the same time he was relieved that Sans was actually  _ talking _ and had admitted that something was bothering him. Perhaps he was finally getting through to him?

His grin mischievous, Papyrus realised that he could very well be a matchmaker in all of this. He could find out his brother’s secret love! He was very good at puzzles; this would be the greatest one yet! After all, what kind of brother would he be if he allowed Sans’ soul to wilt away inside, coughing up petals and flowers just like Undyne had told him about with unrequited love!

He had to take measures to ensure that this didn’t happen to his brother!

“SO, WHAT DID YOU TWO TALK ABOUT THEN?”

Sans’ gaze returned to Papyrus with a hint of wariness and he stayed quiet for a moment. Then he gestured lamely at the green bag on the desk next to him. Papyrus took a peek inside and sighed in exasperation.

“I THOUGHT YOU’D QUIT DRINKING!”

“i quit drinking  _ that,” _ Sans objected a little tersely. “he gave it to me for helping him out.”

“IT OCCURS TO ME, BROTHER, THAT YOU WERE LESS OF A HELP  _ ON  _ THE WAY THERE THAN THE WAY BACK,” Papyrus replied mildly, sending Sans another wry grin.

Something in his eyes flashed knowingly and Sans immediately didn’t like it. Sans shrugged and idly rubbed at his sternum, then he grabbed his bag of coins, fishing around inside to figure out the exact amount.

He watched as Papyrus vaulted up to his feet with a cry of eureka, slamming his hands on the counter hard enough to make Sans jump in his seat. It wasn’t often he could give him a start like that, but Sans recovered quickly enough.

“WHAT IF-” Papyrus started to say, then he lowered his volume considerably, though it didn’t hide the amount of excitedness in his voice, “-THAT GREASE-PEDDLER  _ LIKES  _ YOU?” He surveyed Sans’ reaction. Then, laughing comically, Papyrus grabbed the bag of liquor, turning on his heel to leave. “WHY DON’T YOU PAY HIM A VISIT FOR ONCE, DEAR BROTHER? AFTER ALL, IT’S PAYDAY! AND YOU NEED TO RELAX AND SETTLE YOUR TAB. I CAN THINK OF NO BETTER OPPORTUNITY!”

And with that, he left, feeling rather accomplished and leaving Sans flustered at the station.

Sans stared after him, flabbergasted. His soul had lurched with those words. Once again, Papyrus had caught him off guard with something so deviant from his usual tone that it rooted Sans in place.

Had that conversation really happened? Was this  _ really _ real? Self-conscious, Sans unzipped his hoodie to look down at his soul through his ribs, a nimbus of cyan encircled around the organ like a hearth.

If Papyrus saw it when he felt like this, did Grillby also…?

He cut his thoughts off there. His bones started to clatter again, fear and excitement bubbling inside of him with the mere mention of the bartender’s name. It was silly. It was just in his thoughts, but Sans could almost recall the warmth that had cocooned around him.

Papyrus was right, he  _ did _ have to settle his tab, but at the same time, Sans didn’t know if he had the courage to go to Grillby’s just then.

But, his shift was over.

Pocketing his money, the skeleton exhaled a shuddering sigh. He hoped to god he’d be able to find the courage inside to confront the bartender as he started the long walk back to town.

Even as he entered Snowdin, he wasn’t feeling up to visiting Grillby’s. Sans cowered as he walked, hunched against the cold snow falling ceaselessly upon the little hamlet. As Sans passed the inn, he took faster steps, his bones shaking,  _ shivering, _ as he continued walking directly past the warm entrance of Grillby’s. He could hear happy chatter and the clinking of silverware on plates, of smooth yet fun music inside.

He did miss it, he knew that much. Sans stopped a short distance away, as though he’d changed his mind. Then with a short exhale, he continued past. He needed to clear his head first.

Since Papyrus would be home before him, he bypassed their house altogether. Using a shortcut, Sans reappeared at the cave entrance to Waterfall. A creeping shiver passed through Sans’ bones as he shrugged off the snow and he continued to walk, not skipping a beat as his shoes met with the gravelly path into the dank environment.

The humidity had always agreed with the two skeletons. Upon their arrival, Papyrus had taken a scholarly interest in the marsh, while Sans’ was purely cathartic.

The area had subtle blues shifting as mushroom gnats carried flower seeds from cavern to cavern. The way the typha pods blossomed when the waters receded and ebbed was like the world’s pensive thoughts, allowing him to lose himself in its swaying. As with his tangled thoughts, they drifted away in the area, leaving thick trails of mossy coverings against the swaying rafts secured amongst their roots.

It was peaceful and allowed Sans the perfect scenery in which to lose himself. He went to his favourite spot, where he and Grillby had first rested a little more than a week prior. As far as Sans knew, it was rarely used, so it was a prime area for just letting loose and relaxing. So he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've recently found out about the phenomenon of `hanahaki` and it's so ridiculous I had to have Papyrus think it's a real thing, since Undyne obviously gets her facts from Reliable Sources™. ¯\\(ツ)/¯


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus continues to belabor the `hanahaki` thing - and also visits Grillby's sans Sans. It does not go well. No one is comfortable with this.

“watch it!”

“HOLD STILL-”

“i am, just-” Sans winced noticeably and restrained himself from smacking Papyrus’ hands away from his face.

He sat on the edge of the tub in nothing but his shorts, feeling quite bare and exposed as his brother went through every hairline scrape and scar on his body. Every time Papyrus came across something abnormal, he tutted in that peculiar way he did as though disappointed. Sans rolled his eye lights, then grimaced when Papyrus hooked his finger into the void of his right orbit. It didn’t hurt, but it was still unpleasant.

“YOU’VE CHIPPED YOUR SPHENOID, SANS! HOW ON EARTH?”

Sans grimaced as the prodding fingertips then grazed around the outside of his right eye socket. He regretted every ounce of his decision to give in to Papyrus’ checkup. It’d been two weeks since the last, and his brother’s analytical observances about his health had been so aggravating that it was just easier to let him check. As often as the checkups were, Sans could never get used to the invasion of his skull and he sat quite tensely with his phalanges gripping the towel he was sitting on.

“fork.”

“FORK!?”

“yes, papyrus. _fork.”_ He was getting testy.

“WHY. A FORK.”

“y’know, the more you say ‘fork’, the more it sounds like a word you made up,” Sans interjected, his willingness to cooperate quickly dwindling.

“EXPLAIN THE FOLIAGE, SANS.”

“used a fork to get _most_ of it out…” Sans revealed rather unremarkably, his hand inching up with a grimace as his brother’s fingers probed further into his skull. “you can’t understand how this feel-- _hey!”_

Papyrus stopped and examined the short tangle of fishing line he’d just pulled from Sans’ skull cavity with nothing short of disgust on his face. It was a twisted and hard, tangled mess that had plant matter and small seeds _sprouting_ in it.

It was just as he’d feared!

“SANS!” he bellowed, each of his hands gripping his brother’s shoulders. He was so emphatic that Papyrus started to shake him. “IT’S NOT TOO LATE! YOU CAN STILL CONFESS!”

Sans gave him a blank look, agitation quickly melding into confusion with his brother’s more than usual peculiarity. Papyrus gave him another shake. He sure was excitable lately.

“what.”

“CONFESS! IT’S NOT TOO LATE. SEE? THEY HAVEN’T BLOOMED YET-”

“pap, you’re my brother and you know i love you, but what the _hell_ are you talking about?”

Papyrus almost growled at him in frustration. How could he be any clearer than _that!?_ Even with his sleuthing over the past few days, Sans had been unrelenting to his interrogations as to who his secret love could be.

“A BLOOM THAT SPROUTS FROM THE HEART WILL MOST CERTAINLY TURN TO SICKNESS. UNLESS YOU CONFESS.” Papyrus paused when Sans started to erupt into uncontrolled laughter. “SANS! THIS IS SERIOUS!”

“no, it’s not! it’s anime, dude, you’ve been duped.” Sans couldn’t help but continue to laugh, the wheezing noises escaping his teeth as he hunched and ducked away from his brother’s reach.

“BUT! UNDYNE SAID-”

Papyrus stopped as Sans’ howls became louder and he folded his arms over his chest, waiting for his brother’s fit to subside. Sans felt like he had little control over himself, the notion just so _hilarious_ that Papyrus’ glare just kindled more of the same. Sans doubled over, his arms circling under his ribs and his bones clattered merrily with his chuckles.

“i’m sorry. i’m… i’m sorry, stop _skull-king,_ pap-” he wheezed, moving to straighten himself after the more violent of his guffaws died down.

“IF YOU’VE JUST. ABOUT. FINISHED…” There was a hint of warning in Papyrus’ voice and his eyes narrowed daringly. Sans finally let up, interrupted only a couple more times by a laugh that just couldn’t be held back as his brother continued to check him over.

~

Sans had been in worse shape. The only thing that Papyrus really found wrong with him was one of his kneecaps, which had a small scuff, and the chip in his right orbit that was easily healed.

It took several painstakingly slow hours for Papyrus to get the last of the marshy vegetal matter remaining in his skull, after a bit more explaining from Sans. He’d relented and Sans admitted that he’d fallen into the water, and Papyrus finally got the ‘fishing’ joke with an irritated groan.

He hadn’t given in to Papyrus’ demands to tell him about his crush though, as adamant and persistent as Papyrus was about paying off his tab. Papyrus hinted at different prospects around Snowdin, pointing out their day to day lives as though hoping to get a reaction from Sans. Sans was predictably ruthlessly stubborn.

Papyrus supposed that there was one more option he could try. Now that Sans wasn’t home, he wouldn’t be suspicious of his actions if Papyrus decided to go out. He knew exactly where his brooding brother was, and it wasn’t at the location he’d intended to go.

Papyrus stomped down the porch with gusto, adamant that he’d continue his sleuthing as he rounded to his right and straight past the library.

As peculiar as it was to enter Grillby’s when Sans wasn’t there, Papyrus didn’t allow the sudden confused atmosphere to deter him when he opened the door. He strolled right up to the bar with purpose, relieved that Sans hadn’t ended up there, for once. Of course he wouldn’t be there. He was in Waterfall to ‘think’; about what, Papyrus had a sure guess. He was very observant, after all.

He avoided taking a seat and apart from the door, Papyrus opted to avoid touching any of the surfaces in the establishment. The grease in the air clung to his bones in the worst possible way, but he _had_ to speak with someone.

Perhaps Grillby would know, since the bartender and Sans had spent a considerable amount of time together? Papyrus _had_ mostly been teasing Sans about the bartender liking him, after all. There couldn’t be a connection. Unless there was -- then Papyrus would have to think of another plan.

The bar was busy with the fire monster serving all manner of fast foods to the crowd. As Papyrus waited for Grillby to become available, Papyrus surveyed the extensive wall of alcohol behind the bar with something like distaste. That’s when one of the two monsters by the counter decided to address him.

“Your brother’s not here, ‘Pyrus,” they said in a raspy, throaty kind of drawl.

Politely, the skeleton nodded, attempting to conceal his revulsion for the lingering scent of smoke and frying oil. The bartender moved from the other side of the bar and Papyrus gave him a determined smile, watching as Grillby gestured to the bird for silence.

 _“_ …… _How is he?”_ came the concerned crackle of fire; it took awhile for Grillby to say that one question, like he wasn’t used to speaking in general. An oddity, considering he owned a popular establishment, but Papyrus allowed it to slide. Papyrus never understood how to fathom the fire monster’s words as clearly as Sans made him out to be, but he supposed it was due to his brother’s overly familiar terms with the establishment and its owner.

“I THOUGHT YOU COULD TELL ME,” the skeleton quipped, eyeing a sticky spill on the countertop directly in front of him. With a cringe, Papyrus continued, “IF YOU HAVE A MOMENT TO SPARE, I’D LIKE TO SPEAK WITH YOU.”

The fire monster gestured to one of the empty seats at the end of the bar, which the skeleton approached with regretful acceptance. Ah, the things he did for his brother.

It took the bartender a few minutes more to join him and Papyrus had used a couple of strategically placed coasters to rest his elbows on. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, but it was more so than if he’d opted to actually _touch_ the counter top. Grillby came forward, bar rag and a thick glass tumbler in hand as he polished it with an inquisitive air.

“I’LL BE DIRECT,” Papyrus spoke, lowering his voice. While he was breaking his brotherly code for offering Sans’ privacy to Grillby, he didn’t exactly want the entire bar to overhear. “HE’S BEEN MOPING AROUND THE FOREST AND WATERFALL SINCE YOU TWO CAME BACK!”

Grillby shifted a little, the flames arranged in a way that gave the skeleton the impression that he was concerned. He raised a hand to sign, but seemed to think better of it. Still, Grillby was hesitant in his reply.

 _“…Has not come around lately.”_ He paused as though he was wrestling with an unpleasant thought. _“Mentioned he was working… overtime.”_

Papyrus’ eyes narrowed considerably at that. He’d _told_ Sans to pay his tab six days ago, so what was his problem? He scanned the bar as he scrutinised the patrons there: a couple of canine guards, a hapless blob of a bunny in the corner well into her drinks, another large monster with grotesque mammoth teeth that had baskets of fries littered all over the table in their booth.

Somehow, he didn’t believe he’d find Sans’ crush _here._ Sans was a slob but he was his brother -- there had to be _some_ kind of set standard!

“HE TOLD ME SOMETHING PECULIAR THE OTHER DAY,” the skeleton continued, tenting his gloved fingers in thought as he turned to face the bartender again. “AND I DON’T WANT YOU TO TELL HIM THAT I REPEATED THIS TO YOU.”

Grillby gave him a nod of agreement in silence, having stayed quiet apart from his piece. He was unaccustomed to prolonged conversations with Sans’ brother, after all.

Papyrus drummed his fingers together for a moment before seeming to struggle with the notion, a few beads of sweat glistening on his skull. “WOWIE, IS IT HOT IN HERE, OR..?” He caught the look from Grillby and tensed defensively at his unintended joke. “DON’T ANSWER THAT. ANYWAY, THE SECRET! IS! -- OH, SOMEONE NEEDS YOU OVER THERE-”

A slight flutter marked an odd irritation and Grillby turned his head to the direction Papyrus had vaguely gestured in. Unfortunately, someone was waving him down, menu in hand and gesturing wildly. Grillby sighed, the crackle of his flames snapping as he quickly stalked away to help his customers.

When he got back to Papyrus, he pulled the stool he kept behind the bar to directly in front of him. Once seated, Grillby folded his arms over the counter top expectantly, patiently waiting for the continuation of their conversation.

“THIS IS. A DIFFICULT SUBJECT TO BROACH,” Papyrus began almost stutteringly, his fingertips idly tapping against each other. “BUT, I BELIEVE SANS MIGHT HAVE A ‘THING’ FOR SOMEONE IN SNOWDIN.”

He noted the way the bartender’s posture straightened slightly, as though he hadn’t been expecting that. His flames sparked briefly before returning to its usual glow and Papyrus’ eyes narrowed at the reaction.

So perhaps the fire monster knew something, after all.

“DO YOU HAPPEN TO KNOW OR NOTICE ANY LOVE-BUGGERY GOING ON WITH HIM AND SOME OTHER? HAS HE CONFIDED IN YOU?”

Papyrus noted yellow flames start to flicker, then subtly shift back to red and orange as his questions remained unanswered. Interestingly enough, the skeleton hadn’t factored this into his quest to find Sans’ crush and play matchmaker.

Ruthlessly, he continued; “HIS REACTIONS TO MY INTERROGATIONS REMAIN UNCHANGED. HE REFUSES TO SPEAK CANDIDLY ABOUT HIS FEELINGS AND HE’S ACTING RATHER… STRANGE-” Papyrus considered his choice of words before offering, “-STRANGER? FOR INSTANCE, HIS SOUL. I’M NOT SURE IF YOU’VE NOTICED IT OR NOT… OR IF IT’S A SKELETON THING AND ONLY _I_ CAN, BUT IT’S ALWAYS SHROUDED IN HIS MAGIC. REGARDLESS, SANS’ HABITS LATELY ARE SO DIFFERENT THAT I THOUGHT I’D SEEK YOU OUT FOR ADVICE.”

Grillby remained silent, unable to really understand exactly what Papyrus was getting at, although something inside of him was wary about how to reply.

As it turned out, Grillby was right to stay quiet. He heard the door chime and a gust of cold air entered with another customer. A chorus of “hi, Sans!” and other greetings echoing from the other patrons like a sudden jolt through the Underground.

And true to the greetings, Sans stood in the doorway, his eye sockets hollowed to pitch as he regarded the familiar sight of the bar. It took everything in him to push the door open, to walk up the steps to the warm glow of heat and comfort, to even stop himself outside of the establishment altogether.

He had the courage before then. But now all Sans felt was horror beyond any measure of doubt when he saw his brother and Grillby, at one side of the bar speaking in hushed tones. There was absolutely no reason for Papyrus to be here; Sans had told him where he was going.

Immediately, Sans came to the conclusion that their conversation was likely about _him,_ seeing as they abruptly stopped when they noticed him.

Sans drew in every little scrap of bravery he had left, shifting his weight on the spot. Then, like nothing had happened at all, he slouched into his usual, casual gait towards the bar. He summoned his eye lights again, assuming the laid back character of his previous self, before all this love-struck junk had come and made a mess of his life.

Sans hopped onto his usual seat, giving an absent yet jovial wave to the bird at the other end with an artificially tugged grin. He pointedly ignored Papyrus, feeling too betrayed and hurt.

“heya, grillbz,” Sans greeted the fire monster. The tightness under his ribs was like a knife as he leaned against the counter in a slouch. As his ribs pressed against the edge of the marble slab, it felt like the imaginary knife plunged deeper. “long time no see. guess i got a tab to settle, huh?”

Papyrus on the other hand, sat frozen in place when Grillby moved to stand and address his new customer. Papyrus paid such attention and with such concentration that if he hadn’t looked at just the right moment, he would’ve missed it.

There, just under Sans’ collar. He could see it. Papyrus could sense the magic of such incredible pain and longing -- one that he couldn’t address. Not directly, not in public.

He could tell that Sans was giving it his all to seem perfectly ok with things as they were, like Papyrus hadn’t just trespassed. Sans cracked a joke at the bartender’s expense, chuckling at his response and giving that same noncommittal shrug as if the world was fine to pass him by. And Sans didn’t even seem to care.

But Papyrus knew the sad answer to the puzzle he’d involved himself in. He knew that his brother cared more than he would ever admit. He was ignored, sitting alone at the end of the bar, but Papyrus could still see the veiled yet hurt expression in Sans’ eyes, and how his brother’s shoulders were tense. Years of living with that silly pile of bones had afforded Papyrus his every tell and mannerism, after all.

It broke his heart that Sans would deny himself happiness. And yet, dare he think it, Papyrus could see a spark between the two of them.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus drags Sans out to Waterfall for a much needed heart-to-heart, where he finally gives in and admits his feelings. But for whom?  
> With an echo in his soul and determined for a drink, Sans later winds up at Grillby's, which is uncommonly empty for the time of day.  
> Something bright is burning that afternoon.
> 
> Sans finally makes a move.

As much as it pained him, Sans asked Grillby if he could spend the night in one of his booths as he had a few weeks earlier. This time, the excuse wasn’t bad night terrors, only that he needed time alone to think. After all, Sans admitted that sleeping in Waterfall might’ve been a bad idea.

Papyrus had crossed the line and Sans couldn’t help the leaden panic he felt in what he  _ thought  _ might’ve been discussed between the two before he showed up.

But as always, he knew that Papyrus ultimately had good intentions. He always did. It was just so damned  _ frustrating  _ that Papyrus would go so far as to talk behind his back -- and to the one place and  _ one person _ Sans thought he’d never go. Papyrus had always been full of surprises, but lately Sans was unsure what to expect from him.

So when Papyrus came to get him the following morning, Sans saw no alternative but to go along with things as they were. He thought it strange that Papyrus would shirk his morning rituals to pull him along, though. Whatever. He’d continue his day as though what Papyrus had done didn’t feel like such a massive betrayal.

Sans could tell that Papyrus had ulterior motives when he declared that they needed to go to Waterfall; not  _ had _ to, but needed. It was an ultimatum that Sans couldn’t argue with. When Sans only grunted in acceptance, Papyrus didn’t attempt further conversation, though he did look troubled for a split second. Sans just eyed him warily, drawing in how his brother looked, his walking speed and the way Papyrus solved the puzzles along the way. It was loud and clear that Papyrus took careful consideration into holding himself in his usual manner; boisterous, floundering at all the right moments…

But Sans wasn’t born yesterday. He could tell it was a farce. One that was badly hidden, at any rate. Sans uneasily followed his brother through the marsh, walking quickly to keep up with him.

He couldn’t help but notice that the deviances this time around were so strikingly different than what Sans felt he was used to. Even though Papyrus was still Papyrus, he just wasn’t comfortable with what felt like  _ contradiction; _ and that everything was so starkly different from the usual.

On the other hand, Sans could just be losing his goddamn mind.

Their footsteps echoed in the moist grassy knolls and some pathways had shifted from when Sans last visited. The laughter the echo flowers repeated from his time with Grillby in the ‘star’-gazing room had long since been spoken over. The reminder now gone, it instead left Sans with an echoing despondency as they passed.

There were no mishaps during their walk, and finally he and Papyrus stopped at the whispering corridor a couple hours later. Hundreds of subtly shifting, glowing blue flowers pickled the water; some fully submerged and others growing tall and broad over the surface. They whispered back and forth, the mingling of clear and anonymous voices sending an eerie message to anyone who would listen. Bits of conversation could be picked out amongst the din, but it made no sense at all.

Sans saw the subtle shiver that passed through his brother. He knew Papyrus disliked this part of Waterfall and he actually wondered if it was his intention to pass through or just simply stand there in silence.

Sans himself was fine with the place. The ceaseless whispers blotted out a lot of his dark thoughts and he felt it soothing that the cavern was filled with enough chatter to simulate the lively Underground. In his nightmares they would be chilly and silent, unmoving.

No, he definitely liked the chattier ones better.

“everything ok, pap?”

“EVERYTHING-” The echo of the flowers immediately picked up his brother’s boisterous voice and Papyrus clapped his hand over his mouth to stop himself. Sans had to chuckle at that, despite his mood. Papyrus waited for the echoes to die down before he tried again; “EVERYTHING IS FINE, SANS.”

“you sure? it’s not like you to stay quiet on the way through. got something on your mind, buddy?”

Papyrus turned to regard Sans with a thoughtful look, his gloved hand still covering his mouth as though the interruption from the echo fields would cut him off again.

“ACTUALLY, YES.”

Sans leaned against the carved tablet dais erected along the path and exhaled softly, bracing himself for another heart-to-heart with the only subject Papyrus was fixated on lately.

“welp. y’got me out here. what’s the deal?”

“WELL…” Papyrus deliberated. He shuffled to the side of the path to where the dark waters lapped with the whispers of his first word hovering over the surface. He seemed to be sizing up the pond, then gestured for Sans to come over. Then, as though it was a suitable spot, Papyrus crouched down.

Hesitant, Sans strolled over, his footsteps careful as he wasn’t quite sure what his brother was up to. Still, he stooped next to Papyrus, hands on his knees to brace himself as Sans looked at the faintly luminous sprouts floating in the pond.

“I HAVE AN IDEA, IF YOU’LL INDULGE ME.” Papyrus looked to his brother with a soft smile, and Sans couldn’t help but warily tug his smile back in return. It must have looked more like a grimace, since his brother’s smile fell shortly after. “DON’T GIVE ME THAT LOOK! I’M NOT UP TO ANYTHING AT ALL. JUST… I’VE BEEN THINKING. IF YOU WON’T CONFESS, AND YOU WON’T TELL  _ ME _ … THEN IT IS UP TO ME, YOUR BROTHER, TO AT LEAST HELP IN  _ SOME _ SMALL WAY. TO, AT LEAST, HELP YOU ADMIT IT TO YOURSELF. SO PICK ONE OF THESE THINGIES UP.”

“thingies?”

“ONE OF THE SPROUTS. NOT TOO BIG. NOT TOO SMALL…”

“…just the size of judgement hall?” Sans couldn’t resist himself, and laughed quietly at the withering look it earned him. “ok, ok. i dunno what’s gotten into you lately… you at least gimme a bit of a smile.”

“I’M MERELY… SMILING ON THE INSIDE!” Papyrus interjected, sounding appalled at his brother’s rebuke.

He watched as Sans did as he requested, plucking indifferently at one of the sprouts that had a small bud growing from a thick stalk. Sans gave it a precursory glance, until he figured it was good enough for whatever it was needed for.

“THAT ONE WILL DO. NOW, DON’T SAY ANYTHING JUST YET. OTHERWISE, IT’LL BE SPOILED.”

Sans kept quiet but his smile slowly tugged down with dawning suspicion.

“REMEMBER WHEN WE FIRST CAME HERE?” Papyrus started, nostalgia in his voice. “I REALLY LIKED THESE FLOWERS. WE DIDN’T HAVE THEM BACK HOME! I LEARNED A LOT ABOUT THEM. EVERYTHING I COULD! AND A LOT  _ FROM _ THEM, AND FROM MISTER GERSON-TURTLE.”

Sans waited patiently, giving the dripping, wilted-looking echo bud in his hand another once-over.

“I LEARNED,” Papyrus continued excitedly, “THAT YOU CAN GIVE ONE A SECRET AND IT WILL HOLD ONTO IT IF IT’S YOUNG ENOUGH.” He noticed that Sans was about to object and quickly put up both his hands to stop him. “I KNOW WHAT YOU MUST BE THINKING. BUT PAPYRUS! WHATEVER WOULD I DO WITH SUCH AN AUSPICIOUS FLOWER??”

Sans sent him a flat stare but remained silent, as though he definitely didn’t trust himself to speak  _ now. _

“SO, I THINK THAT, DEAR BROTHER… YOU SHOULD TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THIS OPPORTUNITY. THE YOUNG FLOWERS DON’T HOLD ONTO THE TONE OR CADENCE OF THEIR SECRET-GIVERS. SO! YOU WON’T HAVE TO FEAR ANYONE ELSE FINDING OUT.”

Perhaps the thought of ‘only you’ bitterly passed through Sans’ head, or maybe he was just being resentful. It didn’t keep him from staring at the flower as he idly turned it between his bony fingers.

“I HAVE AN IDEA. AND DON’T BE ANGRY IF MY GUESS IS INCORRECT, BUT-” Papyrus hesitated and wrung his hands, then he finally moved to sit on the ground. “I CAN’T HELP BUT FEEL THAT YOU’RE… TEARING YOURSELF UP INSIDE OVER THIS. WHEN YOU REALLY SHOULDN’T BE! YOU SHOULD TREAT YOURSELF BETTER. EVEN IF YOU THINK, FOR WHATEVER REASON, THAT YOU SHOULDN’T. BECAUSE YOU SHOULD, AND YOU MATTER!”

Sans drew in a deep breath, the action soothing and cathartic as he twirled the stem again. He hesitated. Papyrus had a point; he  _ was _ beating himself up about this. It’d been a troubling realisation when Sans knew that  _ if _ word got out that he had a silly little crush, and it got back to Grillby…

But this was safe. He knew that there was truth to Papyrus’ explanation, but it’d been an age and a half ago since Sans had paid attention to it. It felt like several lifetimes, spanning centuries…

Echo flowers and their silly little mythos. What if it was just a fable? Another universal joke? What if it was a prank, a joke, or-

…He had to stop thinking this way.

“I BELIEVE IN YOU, AFTER ALL.”

Ultimately, Sans decided that Papyrus wouldn’t play around about this kind of thing. Sans’ grin tugged genuinely at that and he looked to his brother’s face, heartfelt admiration there for him to see.

While normally reacting with irritation at Sans’ listless phases throughout their lives, Papyrus really did have his interests at heart, didn’t he? Sans felt that he’d been wrong to doubt him and to be angry when all his little brother wanted to do was to help him. He wanted just as much as Sans did to stop hurting every day.

A short exhale left him, caught in between a chuckle and a pained scoff. Sans only admitted to himself in his thoughts that he was  _ nervous, _ stuck in between being too scared to admit it out loud and to say the wrong thing entirely. Then, it’d be trapped in the flower forever, like a regrettable mistake, repeating his idiocy over and over and over.

Regardless, Sans’ soul fluttered a little with the pep talk. He thought about his friend; caring, gentle and welcoming. He thought about Grillby’s unabashed way to ask after him, to accommodate and listen to him in his darkest moments.

Grillby’s voice had become something of a prized treasure to Sans. He stayed late to keep him company even after the bar was closed. Sans saved his best jokes for him, often telling them to the fire monster first before anyone else just to see Grillby’s warm smile or hopeless grimace. He ordered the worst things on the menu because Sans knew the guy got tired of serving the same popular items every day.

As cheesy as it sounded, Grillby was his light in the darkness, and every time Sans thought of him it was with both love and affection; with hesitation and shame.

If he could move on with his life after this, Sans supposed that it was worth a shot. He took a calming breath, shakily, realising that he had started to tremble. Feeling a small burst of trepidation and conflicting courage, Sans stared at the small, faintly glowing blossom in his hand.

“i’ve…” he started in a bare whisper, stagefright creeping up on him. His voice felt tight and he quickly glanced at Papyrus, his soul thundering excitedly in his chest. At his brother’s urging nod, Sans gave in to a nervous shiver, bones clattering softly. “i… i’ve fallen for my best friend.”

There.

He’d done it.

Sans’s body shook so badly as he stared at the flower with everything he had, as though he was waiting for something to happen. The silence between the two was long -- and suddenly Sans let out a strained hoot of laughter. The tight yet liberating feeling coiled at the centre of his being, threatening to ease and strangle him all at once.

Meanwhile, Papyrus groaned, straightening his spine and gesturing to the flowery fields with resounding disapproval. “BROTHER! YOU COULD’VE PHRASED THAT MUCH BETTER! IT SOUNDS LIKE SOMEONE MADE YOU FALL IN THE  _ OTHER _ WAY.” He grinned though, now able to see the weight quite literally lifted from his brother’s shoulders. “BUT! I BET I KNOW WHO THAT SPECIAL SOMEONE MIGHT BE…” His tone was teasing and he leaned closer to Sans, who grinned and pushed his skull away in exaggerated irritation.

Sans huffed and sat down, then flung himself back onto the path with both arms stretched out. It had taken all that he was and more to go through with, but the grin persisted and the feeling in his chest was considerably lighter.

_ He did it. _

“so, pap. what do i do with this thing now?”

Papyrus hummed thoughtfully, casually sending a look over his shoulder to his brother’s face, then to the delicate echo blossom in Sans’ left hand. Cautiously, he got up and rounded Sans to inspect it, remaining deathly silent to listen. When Sans looked like he was about to speak, Papyrus quickly raised a hand to silence him.

‘ _ I’ve fallen for my best friend.’ _

Sans’ soul fluttered again and he instinctively grasped the front of his hoodie, another short, fragile and embarrassed laugh escaping him. The voice from the flower was a soft and almost infantile whisper that thankfully didn’t sound like him at all. It affected him just the same as his own voice would have, a thumping behind his ribs making his bones nervously quiver with the twinkling sound.

“I THINK IT SOUNDS RATHER ADORABLE COMING FROM IT!” Papyrus offered kindly as Sans carefully pocketed the flower. “YOU KEEP IT. AND DARE I SAY, YOU SEEM A LOT HAPPIER NOW!”

Sans grunted as he sat up again. He  _ did _ feel better, as though his soul was made of air instead of lead. Abashed, he rubbed the front of his sternum and nodded as though to himself.

“thanks, bro. i think i am.”

The walk back to Snowdin was slower, but more comfortable than their way to the whispering corridor. Sans fell into a more relaxed state, walking with his eyes closed behind Papyrus, trusting him beyond all shadow of a doubt.

His footsteps were light. His soul was soaring, tentative and like new. It was simply amazing. Papyrus had been right to bring him there, and now echo flowers held much more meaning to him than ever before.

They went their separate ways upon their arrival. Papyrus continued down the main road to the other side of town and towards the forest, while Sans found himself outside of Grillby’s. It felt chillier that afternoon, so after a few calming breaths, he pushed the door open, yearning for the warm interior that he was so fond of.

It was a lot sparser than what he was used to. The only monster that greeted him was on the way out with a drunk swagger. Perplexed by the empty eatery, Sans stood in the doorway, his eye lights drawn to the fire monster. Grillby stood behind the bar, putting away glasses under the countertop until he noticed Sans.

Sans gave the bartender a sheepish grin and strolled towards his usual seat, the nervous yet light thrum of his soul beating like a slow eruption. As he mounted the stool, Sans gently pressed the pocket with the echo blossom for comfort. To bolster him.

“everyone’s home early today, eh?” Grillby seemed to regard him for a moment, giving him a careful yet welcome smile. Sans decided to take that as permission to continue and leaned over the bar counter, cradling his skull in the cups of his hands. “well, i  _ was _ gonna go to the moon for supper. the food’s good, but there’s just no atmosphere. besides, i’d rather be in your stellar company.”

The fire monster offered a soft crackling chuckle in response and Sans joined him. Almost shyly, Grillby murmured,  _ “Must I endure such jokes now?” _

“i thought you’d have space in your heart for it, but i guess i gotta planet better.” Sans shrugged with a cheesy grin, then he threw a sidelong glance to the left side of the bar. It was where most of the canine squad would’ve been assembled at this time of day, begging him for bones and attention. “you’re not closing early today, are you?”

The bartender shook his head, flames wisping with an amused yet wistful look.

_ “stellar.” _ Sans grinned, unable to stop himself. Idly, he rubbed at his chest. “i kinda feel like a drink.”

Wordlessly, the fire monster took a glass bottle from under the counter, filled with the good red stuff. Sans put up his hand to stop him from opening it and Grillby paused, his flames inquisitive.

“actually, make that a whiskey.”

_ “Unlike you to indulge lately,” _ Grillby observed, but put away the ketchup and turned towards the shelves behind him, filled with tall bottles. Carefully and with much consideration, he selected one of his better liquors, then a sparkling clean glass.  _ “Neat?” _

The skeleton tilted his chair forward with practised ease, scooting closer to the bar so his ribs pressed against the edge of the counter. “dirty.”

The corners of the bartender’s mouth curled with a smirk and he set the glass and bottle to the side, leaning over the bar to join Sans.

_ “Really?” _ he breathed, his flames popping subtly with roguish interest.

Bathed in the heat from the fire monster, Sans closed his eyes and his grin tugged with the silly little flirt. Grillby noticed Sans’ composure; still oddly titillating, yet with none of the previous nervousness and avoidance. Sans actually seemed rather calm and more like his old self. Grillby couldn’t help but smile warmly at that. It’d been awhile since Grillby had seen such a sight.

Sans hummed in the affirmative.

_ “Then… how would you suggest I make it ‘dirty’?” _

That was when the fire monster saw the flush of magic: a subtle hint of cyan blue peek out from under Sans’ collar. Ever since Papyrus had revealed the nature of his brother’s soul, Sans had been avoiding him. His departure the previous morning had been so quick that they didn’t even get a chance to discuss what they’d been talking about. Nor did Grillby get the opportunity to apologise, and it weighed heavily on his mind. Sans had looked upset upon entering the bar the previous night, but now he seemed… content, which was all Grillby ever hoped for.

He’d noted the pulse several occasions before as well, and it made his core’s temperature rise in response, as though echoing the untold sentiment. He’d never act on it apart from harmless flirts. He cared too much to make Sans uncomfortable.

“caramel… maybe. yeah. sounds good,” Sans decided quietly, finding his voice lulling and smooth. He realised that he could’ve said ‘sugar’ with the same effect, but he wanted to hint at something that would add the bartender’s personal touch.

He never once moved while Grillby lingered in front of him, just content to bathe in that soothing glow. But Sans did move a little and opened an eye socket when the fire monster regrettably moved away to start his drink. Idly, he watched as Grillby pulled out a couple of tall silver mugs from under the counter to start.

Sans thought he’d seen a flicker of yellow, but he couldn’t be sure. He’d definitely seen it the previous night when Papyrus was at the bar. It occurred to him that they’d never really brought it up, having sorted out his tab instead.

Sans watched the bartender in silence. A glove was removed to ignite the liquor and sugar mixture, rendering the dancing flames a bright blue between the two mugs as the drink was then expertly poured from each one with flair.

Transfixed, Sans sat as he watched the arcs of blue travel from each cup, feeling like the room was void of air, pinching his soul, trapping his voice. As the bartender pushed the glass in front of Sans, the drink was poured with ease, Grillby not spilling a single drop. The alcohol simmered gently as the bare-blue flames licked around the inside of the glass, still burning.

Sans smiled and sat up a little, stuffing his right hand into his pocket and against the flower. “still something to see, even after all this time,” he finally murmured in appreciation. The bartender gave him another easy smile at the compliment and he set about pulling the mugs away, then he moved to the other end of the bar to set them to the side for later cleaning.

Having no real breath meant that Sans couldn’t extinguish the flames himself, or at least not as forcefully as he would’ve liked. So he lifted the glass with his free hand, the heat from it seeping into his bony digits with the warmth that he craved.

It wasn’t the real way to drink a Blazing Blue and he knew that. That, and Sans felt a little scandalised for the thought that came to mind of ingesting Grillby’s fire. So instead, Sans set the glass down again and attempted to wave at it to extinguish the flame.

Unfortunately in his eagerness, his fingers hit the glass and tipped it towards him and Sans jolted backward with a quiet exclamation. At the same time, he misjudged his balance and the stool swivelled out from under him, throwing him to the floor just as Grillby gave a warning shout.

It would’ve been better if that had been it. Distracted by the flames, Sans quickly patted his hoodie with a swear, then heard a short roll of glass on the countertop. He winced at the loud crack as the tumbler crashed on top of him, both hands shooting up to cradle his skull. Sans rubbed at the top of his head as a shower of glass fragments rained down on his shoulders, his face screwed up in pain.

Legs stretched out and all akimbo, Sans felt that he could’ve handled it a little better. He grunted lowly as he saw Grillby round the bar with a towel and a fierce blaze, dropping down in front of him to help Sans clean up the burning alcohol. Sans grimaced apologetically, shifting to sit upright so he could shake the shards of glass out of his hood.

_ “Are you alright?” _ Grillby demanded, his tone stricken.

“heh. welp, not exactly the fire i was gunning for,” the skeleton replied automatically as he gingerly rubbed his skull. At the same time, he took the towel from Grillby to wipe off. It wouldn’t do to reek of alcohol when he got home, after all.

He thought he saw the pale flicker travel through his friend’s face and Sans paused when his soul seemed to sigh.

It suddenly dawned on him what he’d just said.

And there was silence.

Tight, painful silence.

A short laugh escaped Sans and distractedly, he flicked the shards of glass off his hoodie and pushed his back up against the bar. He kept the towel against the side of his head as he quickly tried to search for excuses to change the subject.

“s-say, grillbz,” he floundered desperately, “you’ve been, uh… kindling bright lately.”

It was a wild attempt to keep his head above water, so to speak, but it’d have to do. Grillby’s reaction was interesting to behold; his blaze flickered the same pale yellow as before and an almost embarrassed smile fell across his fiery features.

The bartender didn’t respond. He only moved to pick up some of the larger shards out of the fur lining of Sans’ hood.

Sans pressed on, curious. “never saw you glint like gold before,” he murmured quieter still, his voice just a little teasing.

_ “It’s… due to a strong emotional response,” _ Grillby supplied, his voice faltering and far quieter than before. Sans shrunk down, averting his gaze while he absent-mindedly continued to wipe the spilled drink from the side of his face.

“oh. i didn’t mean to make you upset, boss. just, uh… put the drink and glass on my tab,” Sans said quickly, his thoughts racing in an internal struggle to keep calm. “the stool too.”

Grillby gently shook his head.  _ “I don’t care about those. I’m not angry; not to worry.” _

Hesitantly, both of his hands went for Sans’ skull, an agony of time between when Grillby was touching him and when he wasn’t, cradling each side of Sans’ face. The skeleton sat stunned, his thoughts coming to a standstill. His breath came in a shudder as heat flooded down the vertebrae under his jaw and the towel fell from his grip.

He stared at Grillby’s face, the silence stretching on until Sans’ mind finally kicked into a panicked overdrive, as though he didn’t trust himself. This was stupid, Grillby was just worried that he’d been injured, he…

_ He was a fool. _

“oh. well. ok, then.”

Smooth.

Damn it, he was  _ fine. _ Sans knew that he’d be fine, but his soul lamented to convince him otherwise. It was painful the way his heart twisted Grillby’s words into the things he wanted to hear.

_ “Quite the opposite, actually…” _

The joke wasn’t the least bit funny, but Sans found himself quietly snickering, the well of desperation and vulnerability inside of him high enough to taint his laughter with a bittersweet ache. Yet he didn’t flinch from Grillby’s touch, whose hands remained on either side of his head, sending that fiery heat and conflicting feelings through him again. Amongst them, there was a hope, a kindling of care and tenderness that he wanted to feel lost in.

Sans noted the golden flicker again and the unsure way Grillby held himself. The subtle shift of fire against his skull was like a hesitant caress. He was close enough that Sans could see the glowing sclerae clearly behind the frames of Grillby’s glasses, and how the innermost irises dragged to the side, thoughtful. Then they narrowed slightly, as though twinged with pain and with it, Sans paused.

A flare of hesitance went through Sans’ soul, suddenly unsure of himself and the silent worry that he was able to decipher from Grillby’s fiery expression.

_ “You laugh defensively, Sans,” _ the fire monster breathed, the words carefully selected throughout the skeleton’s stunned silence, crisp and clear.  _ “Or… perhaps I was too forward.” _

That was a definite hint of disappointment, Sans just knew it. It spoke of an untold ache that pulled at his soul, beckoning him to do something that he was so frightened of coming to light.

Sans’ grin tugged downward and he straightened his spine, shifting as his soul fluttered nervously and sent waves of excitement and trepidation through his body. His eye lights remained fixed on the fire monster, afraid that if he glanced away for even one moment, that it’d turn out to be a desperate dream of a fool in love and nothing else.

“you know nothing can get through this thick skull o’ mine,” the skeleton offered, his voice dropping in register.

He wanted to urge Grillby on, to have him continue talking as his bones trembled with the filling heat, sensitive and warm as though he was thawing out. He wanted to hear something to latch onto, to keep in his heart so that Sans could save it for himself in his most loathing moments of self-defeat.

Maybe it’d be different, like he could be all the better for it.

But it was hard, so difficult to think through the fog of flame from Grillby’s touch. With his deliberate silence, Sans was slowly gathering the courage inside to speak next.

“i… i can tell you a secret. if you tell me one first.”

The bartender considered it, watching Sans’ bashful expression and how it made him kindle in turn. Flames crackled between them, the arched tips billowing a subtle shade of yellow and gold, then fluttered back to their normal shades and splendour. In response, he noticed how Sans shifted again, subtly. It was as though he was attempting to shrink, to hide and to conceal the gentle clatter of shaking bones.

Grillby’s mouth parted slightly as he again, carefully chose the best thing to say.  _ “Burning pale…” _ he trailed off, his flames reacting to the words in kind,  _ “means a hotter flame.” _

There was something to the way he spoke that told Sans that there was more to it than that. Absently, his hand found the front of his hoodie, his soul’s desire for closeness silently pleading with him, clearly reacting to Grillby’s proximity.

“i like your heat,” Sans admitted, the confession startling even to him. He watched as the fire pulsed and Grillby withdrew his hands, somewhat startled. Sans couldn’t help but grin at the reaction despite the lost touch. “and… i think that means you’re  _ blushing.” _

At Grillby’s bashful but agreeing hum, Sans sat up a little more, an outrageous idea forming. If he was wrong, well… maybe he could hope for a retry?

“don’t worry.”

Sans’ soul thundered as he boldly moved, taking one of Grillby’s hands to pull it towards him. His eye lights never left the fire monster’s face as he pressed the warm heat of Grillby’s hand against his ribs, gauging Grillby’s reactions in case he’d read wrong. Palm flat against his sternum, Grillby didn’t pull away, more pleasurable warmth flooding his core. His eyes were bright but soft.

Sans sighed with the tangled, pillowy feeling behind his ribs, his soul pulsing with a dizzying echo and with the clarity of unspoken emotions hidden inside of him.

“me too.”

As though to prove his point, his soul emitted a gentler glow, peeking out from under the collar of his charred hoodie.

Sans held the fire monster’s hand to his chest, his grasp gentle yet firm as he took a deep breath. It felt so right, and Grillby wasn’t moving away. Sans stole a minute to close his eyes, to just drown in the moment without his negative thoughts to ruin it all. Even if Grillby didn’t reciprocate, he felt comfort in the touch.

Heat reached all the way to the tips of his finger bones before Sans realised that his arm had been pulled up. Reopening his eyes, Sans watched as Grillby lifted his other hand in the same manner, placing it at the centre of his torso and against his pristine vest, mirroring the gesture in silent admiration as though it was treasured.

A comfortable silence passed between the two and in that singular moment, Sans could feel his fears melt away. His smile was genuine as his eye lights finally pulled down from Grillby’s face to his own hand, witnessing another pulse. This time it was white and soft, thrumming behind his fingers like a silent song. The feeling reverberated throughout his bones, travelled up his arm and glowed around his own soul, amplifying every blessed emotion tenderly.

_ Grillby felt the same. _

It was beautiful. It was perfection. Sans gave in to another laugh; this time not defensively, but because he truly felt happy for the first time in what felt like  _ years. _ It was clear and held no bittersweet undertones, no fear or worry.

He felt light, and bolstered with new courage he let go of Grillby’s hand at his chest. He didn’t want to, but at the same time Sans didn’t want to remove his other hand from over Grillby’s soul. He wanted to remain linked for that moment and he gave Grillby a genuine smile, slowly searching in his pocket for something.

“it’s a little shy,” he quietly admitted as he pulled out the small blossom. It looked rumpled from being there, having maybe been bruised from his fall, but it still glowed with the luminescent telltale blue from the marsh. “like me,” he added, feeling flush with the gesture as the fire monster took it from him with his free hand.

Gently and gingerly, as though afraid to burn it should he get too close, Grillby held it between the two of them, waiting as their souls’ pulses gradually synced. The flower was beaten up, lopsided and heavy on one end. It was quiet, but the words were there, tiny and anonymous. He knew whose words they belonged to immediately.

_ ‘I’ve fallen for my best friend.’ _

An excited flush filled Sans again at hearing the words, coupled with a measured beat he was positive was resonating from Grillby, like a skip in his soul’s beat. He found that he just couldn’t meet his eyes now, but he continued smiling, hunched into his jacket and coveting that heated touch against his chest. He wanted to keep it there for as long as he was able to.

Grillby stayed silent, his smile broader and more tender as he watched Sans’ reaction to the echoed words.

It was a pure confession, one Sans had been wrestling with for some time, he bet. He met with Sans’ affections, yet the words were easy to come to mind, having already been said.

_ “Don’t worry,” _ came the echoed whisper of Sans’ own reassurance, and he carefully set the echo blossom beside them. Grillby saw the fleeting glance and flushed cyan pulse behind his hand as he leaned forward, closing the gap between them with agonising slowness.  _ “Me too.” _

Sans’ soul hammered excitedly, his mind blocking out everything apart from the shrinking distance between them and the subtle rush of fire. He moved in turn, pushing himself off the back of the bar to shift closer to Grillby’s body. His own magic pulsed as he felt the heated echo of Grillby’s soul thrum warmly against his palm. It felt like such intimacy, one that matched his own, and it tickled pleasantly between his joints.

Sans no longer feared the answer that his heart and soul questioned and agonised over for all this time. He hadn’t meant to confess this way -- nor so quickly -- but Sans was glad in a silently exuberant way, that he did.

The affection he craved was matched as their bodies inched closer, their faces bare movements away from a shared moment that soon felt electrifying and right in all the best possible ways.

Flames licked at his teeth with an age old yearning and he drew them in a ready breath, the fire monster’s scent crisp yet sharp and addictive. The heat flooded his bones and between his teeth, mingling with his magic and sparking along his jaw, pressing against him in a blissful slowness to echo his deepest sentiments. It was like something was unlocked and unbolted, three keys used all at once.

In turn, Grillby’s fingers bunched against Sans’ chest, curling into the fabric of Sans’ shirt through the kiss as though it’d been an ache that after years of hunger was finally satiated. Sans’ body shuddered pleasantly with the heated sigh that escaped Grillby and Sans moved one of his arms over the bartender’s shoulder, seeking to just be close.

Sans felt Grillby’s arms encircle him in turn, warm and tender, pulling him against his body. He sighed contentedly against the chaste end of the kiss, both of his hands slipping over Grillby’s warm shoulders to hold him like he’d always wanted to, like he’d never known he needed to until then.

Moments passed, Grillby’s chin resting against Sans’ shoulder, making the spot throb with heat. Occasionally, the fire monster’s embrace would tighten a little more, then ease, and Sans felt the urge to do it back. The quiet was soothing in its own regard as their souls danced in such intimate proximity, and Sans’ heart and soul felt full.

After long last, everything finally felt right in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want a simply confession story, it's ok to stop here! The following chapters and story follows Sans and Grillby's developing relationship and past and future events. :DD
> 
> FYI: "Trick or treat. Smell my feet. Give me something good to eat. Not too big, not too small, just the size of Montreal" is the silly little rhyme Sans is playing off Papyrus.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Two Idiots in Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27021991) by [Jennajen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennajen/pseuds/Jennajen)




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